The Death of Iron Fist
by grelber37
Summary: Do you like Marvel's kung-fu comics? Do you like obscure villains? If so, you might like this story. Each chapter is a rather quick read, like in a serial. Iron Fist shows-up as do the Daughters of the Dragon and Shanna the She-Devil. Longlost villains appear herein as well. You might visit marvunapp for their backgrounds. This tale comes from the MU of the early '90s.
1. Chapter 1: Five Rats

**Chapter 1: Five Rats**

"Offer ye a spot, laddy?" the swaying sailor extends the brown bottle.

August sunlight projects the blinds onto the desk in the Heroes for Hire Park Avenue office. Iron Fist shoots a qualmish glance at Aguila beside the drunken longshoreman. Aguila smiles.

"I rarely touch the stuff," Iron Fist waves his hand, "Our mutual acquaintance Aguila believes you have some business that might interest me."

"Aye, laddy, that I do," the seaman slaps a sweaty hand on Iron Fist's shoulder and takes a long swig, "The handle's Nathaniel, an' I've been workin' Manhattan's east wharfs many a year. I've met Spider-Man and Human Torch. I've rassled the Grey Gargoyle. Gargoyle and I was quita match-up. . . . . [see _Marvel Team-Up _#2 & #13]."

Iron Fist interrupts. "Does this case involve Grey Gargoyle?" he asks Aguila.

Nathaniel answers for Aguila, "Nah, there're five o' 'em. Mean bucks I tell ye. Ye can tell by the looks in their eyes. Almost as mean as Grey Gargoyle. . . . ." Nat strikes a wrestling pose.

Aguila interrupts, "The Enforcers, Spider-Man's old dance partners, have been pestering longshoremen, especially Nat famous for meeting Spidey's allies and enemies."

"'Tis the schedule they seek," Nathaniel juts a finger into Iron Fist's face.

"Drink, my friend," Aguila tips the bottle to the tar's lips, "They want the time and place of a certain shipment's arrival. The cargo holds great importance to an unnamed employer. So far, they have roughed some men and wrecked some property. They feel veteran wharfman Nat with the big mouth can best get them their information. He has until tomorrow night. Otherwise, they rough and wreck him next. I have an ear to the docks and heard of the whole shakedown."

Iron Fist nods, "Alright, I waive my usual fee. As a K'un-Lun warrior, I protect the weak just as you do, Aguila. Let us gather troops. The Daughters of the Dragon, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing, ought to do. And let us hope that we four heroes against these five villains do not miss the late Power Man's power."

The swashbuckling adventurer nods, "I miss Luke Cage too."

The kung-fu warrior steadies his nerves, "And, I more than most." He will review the Death of Power Man perhaps some other time.

Around midnight, amidst gigantic coolers' rumble, Nathaniel strolls the central aisle of a produce warehouse. His workboots tap the dank concrete, and his breath wisps before him. He sips more rum. Suddenly, a lariat grabs his forearm and flings the bottle onto the wall. Overhead, more fluorescents flicker on. Five figures—Fancy Dan, Ox, Montana, Snake Marston, and Hammer Harrison surround Nathaniel.

"You got our information, old boy?" Fancy Dan glares into Nathaniel's droopy eyes.

Nathaniel snorts, "I'm not scared o' ye hooligans."

Ox seizes a two-hundred-pound crate. Pressing his massive hands together, he splinters it into wood chunks and fruit pulp. "Ox hurt you," he raps his huge finger on Nat's chest.

"We all will," Hammer Harrison's metal-enclosed fist knocks clean through steel racking.

"Oh, we don't think so," more lights come on, and four heroes surround the Enforcers' circle. The speaker Aguila, Iron Fist, and the Daughters of the Dragon spring forward.

With a scream, Iron Fist flying front snapkicks Hammer Harrison, tumbles forward, and delivers a blur of jabs into Fancy Dan's face. With a ciseaux, Aguila gracefully slashes his saber across rubber man Snake Marston's chest. With a crackle, Misty Knight's bionic hand clamps Ox's left wrist. The Ox bellows. Colleen Wing's honed katana first slices the taut lariat rope between Montana's hands and then lops off the loop.

Bloody-faced, Fancy Dan armblocks Iron Fist's further blows. Hammer Harrison sneaks-up. Iron Fist—without looking—back-kicks him in the breadbasket. Touching swordtip to Marston's chest, Aguila pins him with a great blossom of voltage. Shockingly, Snake Marston is unaffected. Secretly, Marston is also the electricity-resistant Eel (see _Daredevil _#357). "Ox hit you!" Ox raises a deadly fist. "Kri-chak", Misty Knight cocks and raises a deadly .44. "Come peacefully" she orders. Colleen Wing's blade slices upward splitting Montana's cowboy hat, and it loops downward to rest against his neck. "Surrender" she demands.

By luck, Fancy Dan grabs Iron Fist's wrist. The kung-fu master chops the villain's collarbone and frees himself—only to have Hammer Harrison rabbitpunch him to the floor.

"Bet ya could use Power Man to box for you right now," Hammer viciously hooks Iron Fist across the face as the hero rises, "Where is that loser anyway?"

"Dead," Iron Fist, the death's only witness, reveals.

Sidekicking ribs, Fancy Dan joins the beating, "Soon you will be too."

Before Aguila's bewildered eyes, Snake Marston has seized the intoxicated Nathaniel. The human snake wraps an arm tight on Nathaniel's throat, and the two back toward a baydoor. The hero follows the villain and the hostage.

Releasing Ox's left wrist, Misty Knight handcuffs his right one to a forklift. Grunting angrily, Ox yanks the wheel-locked vehicle toward him. He steps closer to Knight, "Ox get you. Ox hurt you." A .44 slug across the kneecap "subdues" the giant.

Backing Montana away from Ox, Colleen Wing also produces handcuffs. Montana gabs, "Are you going to incapacitate me? You know, the Tinkerer and I once determined how to incapacitate the people I rope. And, we used produce just like in this warehouse."

"Oh yeah?" Wing replies, "How's that?"

"We made a little mixture of cayenne and fiberglass we called 'trail dust.' But, most call it teargas," Montana hurls a canister of teargas at the investigator. He sprints. The samurai warrior pursues—blindly—but accurately.

Fancy Dan's tornadokick crashes Iron Fist against a cooler door. Grinning, Hammer Harrison screams above the refrigeration din, "I bet ya want your partner now! I bet ya want your mommy and daddy!"

Beneath the mask, Daniel Rand flashes back through three mortal "failures": best friend Luke Cage slain, mother Heather Rand consumed by wolves, father Wendell Rand murdered by rival Harold Meachum. Daniel helplessly watched each death. No anger contaminates his warrior heart. Rather, his pain and fury flow to his fist. It begins to burn, and it awaits Hammer Harrison. Hammer Harrison raises a steel fist and fires it forward. Blazing, an Iron Fist meets it and blasts right through exploding the steel block and splintering the hand and forearm beneath. Mushy appendage flopping, Hammer Harrison collapses in pain. Fancy Dan falls after a few moves from his martial arts superior.

Outside, Snake Marston backs along the pier. Nathaniel chokes beneath Marston's arm. Aguila follows them.

"Throw down that sword," Snake Marston commands.

Aguila tosses the weapon aside, "With the sword go my mutant powers. Now, please, take me hostage instead of the sweet old drunk."

From nowhere, the old sailor a lockblade and buries it into the criminal's abdomen. Snake Marston squalls. He releases Nathaniel. Nat cracks Snake in the fangs. Snake goes limp.

"Well, my 'uman powers work jesh fine," red-faced Nathaniel totters, "Jesh ash the Grey Gargoyle." Aguila just scratches his chin.

Montana has fled to the warehouse's truckyard. Blindly, Colleen Wing has followed. Montana turns the ignition key in a rig. Still blinded, Wing hears the engine gun and the transmission grind. Twirling a chain and scythe, she aims the hooking blade for where the hood "must" be. The chain falls around the front axle instead. The truck accelerates past. It yanks woman prone and skips and skids her over rough asphalt. Abruptly, five ear-splitting booms rupture five of the eighteen-wheeler's tires. Misty Knight reloads as Montana halts the handicapped vehicle. Knight surveys her raw-eyed, road-rashed partner, "You okay, Colleen?"

Montana, Colt in hand, bursts from the cab and fires a quick shot just past Misty. Wing's shuriken pierces his hand, and the Colt drops. "Yes, fine," Colleen Wing tells the blur beside her.

Police and paramedics take the Enforcers away. Iron Fist and his allies agree that the mystery shipment deems further monitoring and investigation. Uptown, Kingpin, hidden in his tower, bemoans to Typhoid Mary the Enforcers' failure. The crime lord swears, "Von Strucker, his HYDRA, and his death spore will not invade my city."


	2. Chapter 2: A Circle of Buzzards

**Chapter 2: A Circle of Buzzards**

Soon after the Enforcers' failure, Rose, Richard Fisk, plots his move on the von Strucker shipment that his father Kingpin, Wilson Fisk, now possesses. New found European associates Pavane (see  . ) and Crossbow (see  . ) have arrived, Pavane's panthers in tow, to acquire the prize. Rose reports that Iron Fist, Aguila, and Nightwing Restorations have been tracking down the shipment. They could take the shipment from Kingpin before Rose does. The Europeans are to capture one of the four heroes, interrogate the individual so that Rose gains any useful intelligence, and then use the prisoner as bait in a hero trap. All are to perish: Iron Fist, Aguila, and the Daughters of the Dragon.

Through the spy game, Pavane knows that Spanish playboy Alejandro Montoya is also vigilante Aguila. Thus, through high society, Pavane uses mutual acquaintances to arrange a date with the hero. The meeting goes well. Adept at seduction, wild Pavane plays Montoya's dreamwoman. They dart her Lamborgini recklessly down 5th Avenue; they dine on Rockefeller Center's open terrace; then, they fandango and lambada in the Rainbow Room; they slam tequila and bourbon at the Hellfire Club and then catch Nightcat's set at Numero Uno, Dazzler's former stomping ground. The uninhibited adventurer wonders if he has found love—or at least a hell of a companion. He invites her home. In his building's garage, she grabs a gym bag of "accessories" from her trunk. In their ascent, the eagle and the peacock dally in the elevator.

In his aerie, she locks his lips in a kiss, and she pets his spine. From her gymbag, she produces a peacock feather. He smirks. She tickles Alejandro's cheeks and lips. He feels not the ultrafine poisoned razor wires hidden in the feather's hairs. He feels a little numb—but probably from drink. Suddenly, Pavane, mistress of the whip, lashes the feather across his face. Razor filaments slice his beauty. Pavane sidekicks her high heel deep into Aguila's midsection. Wheezing, he falls on a neurotoxin-numbed arm that collapses beneath him. Wrapping the organic weapon—a safe non-conductor—around Alejandro's throat, the martial artist flips him hard on his back. A savage syringe plunges into Aguila's heart and releases a sedative. Pavane sashays to the door. Before passing out, Aguila sees three figures standing over him: Pavane, Crossbow, and—old nemesis Montenegro (see  . ).

Aguila awakens his limbs suffering in four ropes suspending him between two wooden posts. He wears only underpants. Before the hero are Crossbow, whom he does not know, and Montenegro. Behind them, after a section of wooden floor, stretch jungle grasses and trees. To the left, a bay of televisions and a desk sit. To the right, the floor leads to a door. Directly above hangs a thatched bed containing yard-long spikes. Apparently, the criminals took him to someone's indoor jungle.

"An old employer Micah Synn [see _Daredevil _#202-214] showed me this back-to-nature, set-up," Crossbow indicates the ropes and posts, "Not being a modernist, I always appreciated this lair. 'Tis a simple place in which yee shan't be conductin' any electricity through any metal."

From behind, Pavane's weighted bullwhip rips Aguila's back open. He yells in pain. Wearing her typical leather vest, thong, and boots, she steps before him. "You have information our employer values. You will share it with us, and then you will be simply bait for your associates," she pronounces.

"I yearn for a final conflict with Iron Fist," Montenegro's approaching blowtorch hisses, "From Switzerland, I rushed here at Pavane's behest, not because her employer pays me, but because I get to crush you and Iron Fist and Power Man should I find him."

"He's as dead as you're going to be," Aguila glares defiantly.

The mutilated Aguila in the videotape has been whipped, stabbed, burned, and beaten. At Nightwing Restorations, the Daughters of the Dragon and Iron Fist view. Loathsome Montenegro speaks before their ally's drooping, silent form, "Greetings despised enemies. How do you like my handiwork? El Aguila, the eagle, is now spread eagle. His clothes and skin are spread over here and his teeth over there and his blood all over this loft. But, I assure you that this raw wretch is your beloved friend. And, I assure you that I keep torturing him until you arrive here. Where is this tropical paradise? The abandoned Micah Synn loft over Midtown. Hurry. This poor bastard has little life left. I do not want to be unoccupied and bored."

From _The Daily Bugle_, the heroes know Micah Synn, the savage mastermind whom Daredevil fought several times. From their loft, Synn and his small army rampaged: theft, property destruction, kidnapping, ritual murder. Daredevil defeated Synn in Hell's Kitchen, and the brute has been at Ryker's ever since. Iron Fist and Nightwing Restorations know the loft's location, and they rush to the certain trap. Aguila's fate is imminent. Hoping to gain some surprise, Colleen Wing scales the skyscraper's façade. On guard all the way, Iron Fist and Misty Knight take the elevator to the fortieth floor. Montenegro, mountaineer and saboteur, might await in the shaft, or he might await upstairs. When the doors open, glare ice leads from the elevator down the hall to the dimly lit loft where a man hangs between the poles.

"Montenegro's ice gun at work," Iron Fist explains, "Cautiously, let's get to Aguila."

However, a whip cracks upon wasted body in the next room, and Iron Fist gracefully rushes over the ice into the jungle. When the rescuer enters, Crossbow fires three bolts at once. Two miss the agile warrior, but one sinks solidly into his left hip. As Iron Fist tumbles forward, Pavane's whip wraps his leg, and she skids him into stone steps before a ten-foot idol Mow, Synn's god. Aguila dangles nearby. However, before Iron Fist can aid him, Pavane cracks her bullwhip, and the kung-fu master somersaults behind Mow. Fro the jungle, Crossbow springs a quiver trap. Iron Fist hits the deck as a group of ten bolts hail off Mow. Flanking, Pavane whips the hero's prone form.

"Surrender now," Pavane demands.

From the shadows, Crossbow backs her, "Surrender. Otherwise, a bolt drops that spike bed onto your unfortunate friend."

Iron Fist calmly stands-up, "Montenegro has friends too, I see. Shang-Chi's old femme fatale Pavane I recognize. We elite martial artists network. Micah Synn's agent Crossbow I can deduce is in the woods. He would know this location. I can deduce also that no superheroes should surrender here. Judging by Aguila's condition, you blackguards intend to kill us all. Give it your best shot."

The assassins move lethally. From his sides, Iron Fist's hands criss-cross. His right snatches the bolt flying at his heart. His left snatches the whip about to gash his throat. Furious muscles yank Pavane hard into metal Mow. Surprisingly, she drops the whip and leaps into a flying sidekick. Slowed by the hip injury, Iron Fist blocks instead of dodges. Aimed away from Iron Fist, Crossbow's shot hits Aguila squarely in the thigh. The torture victim's groan distracts his ally, and Pavane sweeps out the warrior's legs. The fighter springs upright. Pavane is hurrying to her whip. To avoid a lash, Iron Fist dives beneath Mow. Instead of Fist, Pavane approaches agonized Aguila. She raises her whip ominously.

"You're dead now, bitch," dominated spits on dominatrix, "The dragon-lady has arrived."

A shadow falls upon Pavane. Pavane turns to see Colleen Wing, katana raised, challenging her. The samurai looks incensed. She is somehow topless, bloodied, and sweating.

Moments before, Colleen Wing scaled to the balcony. She stepped onto a long, narrow porch thick with grasses and trees. She found the sliding doors before her locked and made of shatterproof polymer. From the darkness, something growled. In the night, Wing met a camouflaged panther's glowing eyes—decoys for the panther's partner opposite. Walloping Wing's lower back, the big cat constricted her ribcage with its forelegs and bit bloodily into her side. The other panther pounced, but Wing had drawn her sword. The flat blade bunted the heavy, leaping feline back. The tackler's claw ripped its prey's gut and tore open her robe. The loose beast pounced again. But, ruthlessly, Wing thrust her sword into the panther's heart.

Over its death yowl, she pronounced, "I hate slaying you, magnificent spirit. But, too much is at stake—Aguila's life and my own."

Swift, the other cat slammed Wing onto the doors. Pressing behind her, its whirling clawed her back and shredded her robe. Backward, her sword thrust into the panther's soft palate and then into its brain. The animal dropped. Bloody and burning, Colleen Wing tossed her robe aside and commenced picking the lock. Soon, she challenged Pavane.

Moments before, Misty Knight's boots slid beneath her as she crossed the icy hallway floor. To the left ahead, a door opened, and she drew her magnum. From the room, Montenegro lobbed a smoke grenade. Abruptly, Misty was blind within a cloud. An explosive piton whizzed through the air. The missile blasted off Knight's bionic right arm. Searing shrapnel penetrated her shoulder and side. Her .44 flew away. The concussion flopped her flat. With painfully ringing ears, she heard Montenegro's spiked boots stomp across the ice toward her. Gravely, she looked for her weapon. Through the haze, she discerned her revolver five feet away. Blood dripped from her wounded right shoulder. Determinedly, she skidded across the ice. Her remaining fingers touched the weapon—just before Montenegro's piolet struck it, hooked it, and flung it away. Growling with effort, the detective balanced on one hand and uninhibitedly kicked—into unyielding Kevlar-coated body armor. The villain grabbed her leg and flipped the woman onto her back.

Beating his chest, Montenegro deviously grinned, "Unlike you, I came prepared."

Knight's fleshy forearm could not stop the sweeping pickax from striking her temple. Semi-conscious, she felt nylon rope loop around her neck; then, the ruthless mountainman dragged the limp woman across the ice to the bedroom once used to hold Debbie Nelson captive (see _Daredevil _#213). He tossed her upon a palm frond bed. He lobbed the rope over rafters. Dizzy, she gazed above. With great effort, she rose to fight. But, Montenegro had already secured the rope's end to a piton in his gun, and he fired the stake into the ground. Savagely, the rope snapped Misty into the air where she swung choking. Gurgling, gasping, kicking, she tried desperately to pull herself up with her weak left arm.

The Swiss mercenary gloated, "Your beloved Iron Fist might be a Hero for Hire, and Ms. Wing and you might think yourselves choice hired agents. But, you are not me. As the world's best mercenary, I tell you that I would have simply abandoned a colleague before ever rushing into a trap. Now all three of you are dead. And, if Luke Cage is not as dead as Montoya reports, he soon will be, for I, Montenegro. . . . ."

Before the villain could finish, a blazing blue flash illuminated the bedroom. The burst came from the loft down the hall. Montenegro peered. He is amazed, "Mein Gott! Who knew the man had such remaining fight?" Knight's tormenter fled. He bombed the elevator car and rappelled down the open shaft. He was gone. In the room, the dangling, delirious Knight slid her numbing fingers around a lockblade on her belt. The villain would have simply disarmed her, but she could now perhaps use the tool in time.

A moment earlier, Colleen Wing—bloody flesh exposed—holds her glinting, blood-stained katana before her enraged face. Eying the blood, grinning Pavane wriggles her bullwhip and circles the fighter, "Pet cats are like men, samurai. You spend time with them, but they are expendable. Whenever I lose a cat to Razor-Fist say [see _Master of Kung-Fu _#105], whenever I use up another man, I know that I can always find a replacement. How are you about losing a pretty pet?"

"Danny can handle himself. What do you mean?" Wing's eyes narrow.

Pavane's whiphand indicates down the hall, "I mean that Montenegro is my tiger down that hall and that I have not seen your partner Misty Knight in awhile."

Springing past Pavane, Wing sprints toward the corridor—until stinging leather wraps her ankle and yanks her flat upon her face and breasts. Outraged, Wing's wrathful face turns. At that moment, a bolt whizzes through the jungle canopy and severs the rope holding the spike bed above Aguila. Horrified, Wing witnesses the slab of spikes fracture the poles suspending Aguila. His torn form is no more. The samurai knows that her comrade surely lies dead beneath the sacrificial bed. From the foliage, Iron Fist's impassioned howl resounds. A thunderous crack follows, and a mighty tree falls. Wing slices off her ankle bond. She throws a storm of shurikens that Pavane ducks beneath. Pavane throws a bola that Wing leaps above. From the foliage, Iron Fist sidekicks Crossbow through the air and onto the open floor. Suddenly, inhuman moaning emanates from beneath Aguila's oblong box. And, trails of electricity dance forth. The thatch smokes; Crossbow's form glows blue; and Pavane's golden tresses stand on end. The torturers look toward Aguila's grave fearfully.

A moment earlier, Iron Fist, wounded and limping, raced into the jungle to find Crossbow. Colleen Wing faced Pavane. The champion of K'un Lun sidestepped one deadly bolt and deflected another before reaching sniper Crossbow, whose position firing had given away.

From a tree bough, Crossbow smirked downward, "Aye, lad, ye have survived to me last bolt. How I shall use me last shot? Shall I shoot ye 'tween the eyes? Nay. I believe I shall shoot ye through the 'eart."

Iron Fist readied to dodge a bolt shot at close range. But then, to his horror, Crossbow swung the weapon's sight upon the spike bed over Aguila. In a blink, the missile split the rope, and the slab fell. Screaming, the kung fu warrior channeled an inferno of chi into a blazing iron fist, and he shattered the tree. Crossbow landed harshly upon the wooden shards. Then, Iron Fist was upon him. The Living Weapon seized the crossbow from Crossbow. Twirling it, the martial artist successively cracked the killer across the face. In the dirt, hood found a tree chunk. Crossbow lunged with his stake, and Iron Fist flipped him through abrading forest. The thug tottered to his feet. Iron Fist was upon him. The hero mightily kicked the murderer through the air. The villain landed before Colleen Wing and Pavane.

Now, electricity burns the air as—impossibly—Aguila's rack rises. Re-animated, the mutilated man stands horrifically upright, his blood and guts falling forth. The thing's bulging eyes catch its loathed enemies. A violent blue flicker increases around Pavane and Crossbow standing astonished. The air crackles tumultuously.

"Ancestors in Heaven!" the samurai warrior gawks, "He uses his power as never before—without a conductor."

Wailing, Aguila emits a dazzling lightning strike. The eagle locks Crossbow in his eyes, and the assassin catches fire internally. Crossbow's eyes burst and sizzle. Flames shoot forth from his mouth and ears, melting hissing flesh from his face. Jawless, the blackguard dances in spastic agony, flesh desiccating on his bones. Then, his entrails explode forth; then, his skeleton explodes into so much debris.

Ten feet away, a cord of lightning scourges Pavane the flagellant. She shrieks. Her skin bubbles and boils frenetically. Hair and flesh catch fire. Scant garments ignite and crumble from exposed meat. Screaming, she seeks anything to arrest her agony: water, wet flora, anything. A macabre sight, the skinless, smoldering thing crawls toward aghast Iron Fist. "Help me! Help me! Help me!" the seductress's lipless singed skull entreats in an animalistic squall.

Upon his thorny bed, the spread-eagled Aguila ignites the wooden bonds pinioning him. A blinding fireball ignites the thatch upon his back and the spikes through him. Momentarily, his eyes reflect a burning light of justice upon his enemies and of esprit de corps toward his friends. Then, his flesh melts like wax from his bones, and the fiery bed falls over him—incinerating him instantly. A few bones amongst the embers and ashes mark his passing.

The angry current frees Pavane. Iron Fist wraps the flayed sadist in his tunic. Exposed Colleen Wing rushes to her partner down the hall and sees Montenegro make his explosive get-away. In the bedroom, Nightwing Restorations reunites. By will, Knight has cut the noose, and Wing covers her injured partner with a blanket. She strokes her colleague gently and calls the paramedics and police. Knight will recover in the hospital a few days. Paramedics Jake Olsen and Demetrius (see _Thor _v. 2) treat the bloodied Colleen Wing and Iron Fist, the heroes insisting that they be treated and released.

Later, the heroes and the police determine that no one recognized the ambulance team that so quickly whisked away critically-burned Pavane. Unbeknownst to the good guys, Rose had commissioned Dr. Angeline Kutter, the villainous Surgeon General (see _Daredevil _#305-306). Surgeon General and her team were to dispose of the heroes' bodies by selling their organs and parts on the black market, as is Kutter's modus operandi. However, after monitoring Wing's 911 call, Rose used the rapacious surgeons as a trauma team instead. They placed Pavane in Dr. Melinda Brewer's secret Bronx facility (see _The Punisher _#58-#60).

The morgue gathers the remains of the two panthers, villain Crossbow, and hero Aguila.

In the Bronx, mob doctor Melinda Brewer keeps Pavane barely alive and heavily sedated. Stoned, disfigured Pavane hallucinates of iron warriors, dragon daughters, and an avenging eagle. Past flames visit her nightmares: Velcro as deformed as she, Mordillo prettier than now she, proud Cat, noble Shang-Chi. Pavane curses each bitterly. Fallen angels visit her too. Miracle-worker Brewer grafts a new body of tissue upon the defaced beauty. Benefactor Rose provides the new body, for Richard Fisk is a compassionate man. Chameleon sells Rose his transformation serum, for Chameleon plans major moves soon (see _Web of Spider-Man _#52-55). The artificial wonderflesh expands and reproduces quickly over Pavane's charred body.

Soon, the new Pavane stands before a mirror. Outwardly, she is the same again and completely beautiful. Dr. Brewer explains the saving flesh's properties. With a thought, the remade seductress can alter her appearance: face, body shape, hair, pigmentation. She cannot alter her height or scent, however. Unlike Chameleon, superspy Pavane requires no computer belt to shapeshift, for she has instead a chip implanted next to her spine. Curiously, Pavane first transforms into Colleen Wing whose reflection she silently stares-down in the mirror.

Rose is a compassionate criminal. His funds restart Pavane's life after her apparent death. Pavane re-purchases her Surrey, England, estate. Naturally, a deceased woman cannot purchase property subtly. Thus, a bubbly—yet edgy—Scotswoman named Bonnie MacDonald buys the place. Bonnie even fools Dai Thomas, Excalibur Scotland Yard associate, when he visits the old spy's residence. Pavane even fools Shang-Chi, old acquaintance, when the Hong Kong hero sends Black Jack Tarr, MI-6 agent, to investigate the estate's new owner. Soon after her recovery, Pavane visits Wakanda and fools even perceptive Black Panther. Wakanda has a funeral site of interest to the living dead girl.

Recently, Wakandan officials ceremonially cremated Bibi and Pavane's other panther. After the Synn loft melee, the NYPD offered the panther corpses to the Bronx Zoo. In turn, _The Daily Bugle _reported the gift, and Wakandan expatriate Wheeler (see _Daredevil _#245) read of the Bibi and her companion. Ever respectful of Wakanda's national symbol, he contacted King T'challa, Black Panther. The regal animals received a proper service.

Weeks later, a panther enthusiast visits to pay her last respects. Apparently, Shanna the She-Devil visits her beloved Africa. Weeks after, the real Shanna calls upon Wakanda, and there is much confusion and concern.

Crossbow's ashes are spread outside Delahanty's Grill in Brooklyn (see _Daredevil _#216). Although mainly an Irish crowd, Delahanty's rogues always liked the English assassin; they even once tried to smuggle him from the country after Synn's fall. King George's Flowers, a Kingpin property, sends roses for the famed hitman. And, all raise a pint to a fine rascal. Although reformed, IRA representative Gloria O'Breen even attends to eulogize the scamp.

Aguila's remains fly home to Spain. As a winter breeze crosses an arid plain, a priest reads funeral scripture while Daniel Rand, Colleen Wing, and recovering Misty Knight stand solemnly nearby. Rand commemorates Aguila. He was a noble eagle snatching from the unfairly rich and delivering lovingly onto the poor. Soar well. Iron Fist prays that, from one hero's death, future good works will rise.


	3. Chapter 3: Proud as a Peacock

**Chapter 3: Proud as a Peacock**

Sol burns. It heats the blue sea around her; it irradiates the gunmetal deck beneath her. Upon her oaken chaise longue, the sun fires her red hair, bakes her white skin, basks her black bikini. Her sweat spatters as though she melts, and her breath draws flame into her bosom. From afar, a greedy gaze beholds her, and a gray-haired man smokes white smoke into the steamy air.

"So, you are a Surrey girl. I am a boy from Surrey, England," the middle-aged fellow grins.

"I reside there," athletic legs swing and place feet upon searing steel. She strides toward her host. The blistering surface does not bother her a jot. She seems thick-skinned and numb. Beneath his canopy, she meets the smoking man in his smoking jacket and slippers. Surprisingly, the air is much cooler beneath the open canopy. Justin Hammer sits in a cool air.

"You tolerate both the extreme heat and the contrasting cold very well, Ms. MacDonald," Hammer drives his cigarette toward her, "Are you sure that you are a Surrey girl? Sometimes, a Surrey girl is too used to luxury." So states the robber baron on his floating steel villa that Hammer Industries constructed off Monaco's coast

"I am used to luxury, Mr. Hammer. My services usually pay me very well," she states.

"Well then, have a cigarette. The tobacco is the finest from Kentucky," he offers a gold etui.

"No. I have smoked enough," she simpers.

"You don't say," Hammer smirks. Devilish smoke falls from his nose and lips.

"I am an assassin. But not of you," Bonnie sits erect.

"No, you are not here to kill me. This I know. I assure you—Pavane," the older man pats her hand patronizingly, "You would die before ever touching me. Fast as a bird though you might be, you Surrey bird."

Like a panther, Bonnie's eyes narrow, and she assesses her quarry. Hammer strokes this big cat, "You are Pavane. You are a master spy and assassin. You worked for poor Carlton Velcro and poor Mordillo the Majestic, both of whom you betrayed. You worked with Shen Kuei, The Cat, and Shang-Chi, Master of Kung, both of whom you betrayed. For a long while, you have been two-faced. Long before any unfortunate cosmetic accident in New York."

"My injuries were more than cosmetic," Pavane growls. Bonnie's curly red hair straightens and blanches blond. Her form changes from buxom redhead to svelte killer. She appears as she did before past associates.

Hammer smiles at her scowl, "I shall tell you how you acquired your recent scars and new skin. After Mordillo's death, you retired for awhile and disappeared into your nice Surrey estate. But, your nice reputation could never retire and disappear. So, New York's Rose came calling. He wanted revenge upon businesses Heroes for Hire and Nightwing Restorations. He wanted you to head a team—a terrible trio. Montenegro, Crossbow, and you kidnapped Spanish playboy Alejandro Montoya. Don Montoya was clandestinely crimefighter Aguila, ally of Iron Fist. You agents tortured Aguila very competently and sent a disturbing video to Iron Fist and Nightwing Restorations. They responded to his distress, and you caused them great distress in-turn. You three had those four dead by rights. But then, el Aguila, 'the eagle,' became miraculously as the aetos dios, Zeus's eagle. He brought astounding lightning upon poor Crossbow and poor you. Crossbow died. You survived."

"The former Pavane was destroyed. I can only wear her skin," Pavane concludes the humiliating and painful autopsy, "My own skin is now like superspy Chameleon's, and I have become a superspy such as he. I can shapeshift, and I have his two goals. As he does, I serve others for great riches. And, as he does, I take merciless retribution upon those who cross me. The peafowl Pavane has become the reptilian Chameleon without and within."

"Hmph yes, evolutionary scientists say that birds are just glorified reptiles. One need simply to burn the feathers off," Hammer traces her form with his glowing cigarette.

Flashing red, Pavane recalls a hundred different ways to kill Hammer in an instant. For a micro-second, she considers using one of them.

"What you need is a weapon right now, love," Hammer smirks meanly, "You want your revenge."

Hammer has finished his cigarette. He is done blowing smoke. From thin air, an aide appears with an ashtray and a suitcase. Like a servant, the short man sets an ashtray by his master just in time for the butt. Pavane is amazed. She did not detect this man standing at the table. She is amazed also by his identity.

"Phillip Barnett," she names the servant, "You are a master weapons scientist and also Hammer's head underling. Did you design your cloaking device?"

Mr. Hammer answers for Phillip, "We captured the Ghost, the industrial saboteur, recently [see _Iron Man _#240]. We took the useful technology from him."

"So, you feared me a bit if you kept an invisible bodyguard nearby," the bird's words peck.

"No, Phillip is no bodyguard," Hammer snickers, "A different party stands concealed nearby. He could neutralize you at anytime, and he would also surprise you before you ever detected him."

Proud peacock broods briefly. Then, she asks, "What's in the briefcase? Could you reveal that surprise to me? How shall we mutually achieve our murderous goals? Did Scorpion return the tail that you redesigned for him?" Pavane stings Justin with the recent memory of Spider-Man besting Hammer's technology (see _Amazing Spider-Man _#318-19).

Abruptly, Phillip thuds the briefcase upon the table loudly. Pavane startles just a little. He pushes the case toward her. The femme fatale manipulates the latches, but they are locked. Phillip places his hands over her fingers, and he moves her hands aside. Looking into her eyes, the bespectacled, short man enters the right code. The briefcase pops open.

The Surrey girl gasps upon beholding her aureate gift. It bedazzles her eyes, and she takes it into the sunshine to fully admire it. In the rays, the lustrous object emblazons Pavane's visage. Her wide eyes burn, "I shall have my revenge."

From the shadows, Hammer pronounces, "It is a glorious weapon. Blacklash's whip has smote both Iron Man and Spider-Man, both Captain America and Wolverine. I bestow it upon you so that you might slay my nemeses."

"I serve a good patron gladly," Pavane bows, "I shall whip and strip the very flesh from our mutual foes. They will be flayed as I was flayed."

Hammer clarifies his motive, "You shall kill some business rivals. Daniel Rand shall die. He is both a rival industrialist and a superhero. You shall kill the Daughters of the Dragon. They would avenge Rand's death otherwise."

"I would kill them anyway," Pavane's exposed body hardens, "I shall recruit two other assassins for this task."

"An associate of mine will provide aid once you reach Iron Fist's New York," Hammer reaches for another cigarette. Business has concluded, and Pavane may go. Pavane strides away semi-naked into the raging brightness. She appears proud as a peacock.

Hammer pats Phillip's hairy hand patronizingly, "Philip, be a good boy. Fetch me a phone. I wish to call Switzerland."

Dr. Barnett queries, "Does she intend to recruit her past associate Montenegro?

"Yes, however, she will kill him instead."


	4. Chapter 4: Herding Felines

**Chapter 4**: **Herding Felines**

Barefeet kick hot sand behind them. Like a vixen, a red-maned woman streaks through kelly tea fields. Bare white skin gleams within orange pelt, and gray sweat patters upon burnt path. Behind her is Wakanda's Paradise Forest. To her right, Wakanda has its famed Vibranium Mound. To her left, Panther Island sits in Twisted Visions Lake. Before her, Shanna the She-Devil beholds King T'Challa's Palace. The king T'challa watches her approach, and he admires her ardor. His palace guard know to let her enter.

Soon, Shanna and T'Challa meet in the throneroom. Mask thrown back, Black Panther sits upon his throne, and his august advisor N'Gassi stands beside him ( . ). Perspiring, Shanna shivers in the air-conditioned chamber. The king speaks, "N'Gassi and I have investigated your two claims. You are the actual Shanna famed in Africa. Wakandan scientists confirm such."

"I am glad that you appreciate a hair strand gift so and a few fully-clothed scans, much as I never wear much," Shanna smiles knowingly.

Black Panther smirks subtly, "You are a natural spirit at home in Africa. And, I am glad to be your kindred. I am glad to aid you—and your husband."

Shanna moves the conversation along, "You reported that a Shanna Plunder imposter paid her respects to fine panthers Bibi and her companion. Then, I came to Wakanda to do the same. As you would imagine, I want to know more about this person. And, my family would like to too, for Ka-Zar would hate to have two wives with which to contend."

"You are somewhat humorous, madame," Black Panther notes her wit, "The ersatz Shanna is quite a stealthy creature. She fooled Wakandan security's facial recognition technologies. She fooled my gut instincts even after she and I visited for some time. Fortunately, she did not fool Wakandan voice recognition technology. However, we did not think to use it until after you arrived and reported the impersonation. Her voice is not in the database for Wakandan Security. So, she is an obscure operative of some sort."

"Obviously, the person is a master of disguise, and the person could be a shapeshifter." scientist Shanna notes, "Does intelligence chief W'Kabi have even any speculations?"

"Sham Shanna could be the Chameleon, Primus, or Mystique," Black Panther comments, "But, what would each's motive be? Each has little connection to either of us. The imposter attempted no violence. The imposter took nothing. The person valued simply saying goodbye to the panthers and meeting me."

N'Gassi cuts in, "W'Kabi traced her departure from Wakanda. He is certain that she next went to London, England."

"Hmph. My husband Kevin is from England. And, his troublesome brother lives there," Shanna taps her lips in thought, "I shall have to keep tracking in Great Britain."

"Communicate if you need any further help," King T'challa rises a busy man, "Thank you for your visit. Good luck in your hunt."


	5. Chapter 5: Come to Roast

**Chapter 5**: **Come to Roost**

The Gondelbahn soars through the air to idyllic Grindelwald, Switzerland, at the foot of the Schwarzhorn. The Swarzhorn is the "black mountain," and the Man from the Black Mountain is Montenegro (whose name means "black mountain"). And, Montenegro is her target. At the First, a basin before the mountain, Bonnie MacDonald blithely egresses. Her shiny boots skip over the ground, and her pearly whites smile at the sun. Fellow hikers smile back amused as she gaily passes. Then, once alone, her visage darkens. Ivory skin ensanguines. North wind blows fiery tresses, and her locks blanche blonde. The gray trail lies before her. The Black Mountain lies before her, and Montenegro's lair lies upon it. She sees his cabin in the distance.

Through crosshairs, he sees that he could kill her. Montenegro could drop Pavane with one snipershot. Justin Hammer had recommended such action. However, the king of the mountain decides to first hear her words. She will enter his hall. Then, he will decide whether she lives or dies. He lifts away the rifle and hides within the cabin.

Upon arrival, Pavane finds the cabin door wide-open. Flames burn high yet in the fireplace. They illuminate animal trophies. Pavane wonders of what flesh the lampshades are made. Like panther paws, her boots pass silently over the rough, hard granite floor. At a downward staircase, Pavane allows her shadow to fall into the cellar where Montenegro no doubt awaits. He calls "Come, killer." She puzzles at this diction. But, she is a noted killer, so she descends toward her comrade. Svelte legs bounce down creaking steps. Obviously, Montenegro feels safe in his sanctum, for he cares not whether the steps creak. At the bottom, there are but three lights. Montenegro hides somewhere in the shadows. One light captures her in the chamber's entrance. One reveals a teapoy between two sofas. This arrangement assures that conferees are distanced from each other while conversing. One illuminates his arsenal room left wide-open. He wants her to see his piton gun, ice gun, sniper rifle, Kevlar suit, and bow and arrow, national symbol of Switzerland. Beneath her rucksack, her own terrible weapon—concealed—presses into her back. Shoulders squared, she strides to a couch and sits confidently awaiting Monte's move.

Montenegro moves toward her. Pavane hears his breath and his steps. Then, he emerges from the darkness. In her eyes, he is an Alpine ibex: bold charger, fearsome ogler, chest puffer, beard bearer, good climber.

She mocks him standing aroused, "I see you, Stewart Montenegro, steward of the Montenegro." By her hand, she offers him a seat in his own house.

The mountain goat grinds his teeth, "I am the Man from the Black Mountain, and no one governs me in my domain." He stomps to her side, and he looks down upon her.

His posturing puts-off Pavane, "Gibt es ein Problem, Monte? I gather a team. How would you like to have final revenge upon Iron Fist? I would."

"I know that you would," the boar bears teeth, "But, I have nothing to gain by fighting Iron Fist again. I have defeated him thrice. Last time, I even left both Daughters of the Dragon for dead. Then, I escaped. I am no fool such as you. You chose to keep fighting Iron Fist and his allies that night. You are a stupid, petty, little schemer. You con people better than you fight them. You need always legitimate killers to do your dirty work for you: the Cat, your panthers, myself. You need always masterminds and patrons such as Velcro, Rose, or Justin Hammer—who called to warn me."

The she-cat seethes, "Called to warn you about what?"

The boar bears tusks and advances, "Hammer called to warn me about your personal vendetta from which I have nothing to gain and all to lose. Hammer called to say that you come to kill me if I refuse. If I refuse, an unstable, ersatz assassin will attempt killing me all because she ruined her looks, her only professional asset. This loser will flay away my skin, for she has lost her own front to her stupidity. This obsessed fool will. . . . . "

In a flash, the air coruscates and crackles. A lightning bolt strikes across Montenegro's mighty chest and forms a smoking, sizzling schism. From beneath her rucksack, Pavane shoots Blacklash's whip right through Montenegro's Kevlar. She outfoxes her hircine foe, and his charred chest chevon chokes the air. With a wristflick, Pavane decollates Montenegro too. The head falls. The smoking torso splits in twain.

Smirking, Pavane realizes something, "Mr. Hammer must see you as a business rival. So, he set you up to anger me. He wanted me to kill you."

Montenegro's shocked eyes shift back-and-forth in the head upon the earth. Pavane addresses the head, "Monty, I have other agents to recruit. Unlike you, I make friends easily." She leaves him in his lonely cellar.

A lone Pavane descends the Black Mountain. She has a different continent to visit, and another old acquaintance to recruit.


	6. Chapter 6: At My Chamber Door

**Chapter 6**: **At My Chamber Door**

The she-devil Shanna Plunder paces and pads the marble floor as though she were one of her beloved big cats. Castle Plunder is a quiet place in Greater London, England. She is alone. Kevin's evil brother Parnival is not here, though she suspected him alive. He seems as dead as Ka-Zar and Shanna had left him (see _Ka-Zar the Savage _#33). No butler serves at Castle Plunder. Former men Feepers and Willis are also dead. No family resides at the manor anymore. No animals—alive nor preserved—sit in the mansion's extensive halls. Shanna is alone with her thoughts, and her thoughts are on solving this mystery. Who is her impersonator? And, where is the person now?

Tomorrow, Shanna visits Maldon, Essex, where Excalibur resides. Savage Land friends X-Men report that Excalibur has members Phoenix, a psychic, and Meggan, a shapeshifter. Perhaps, they have some insight to offer. Besides being protean, Meggan is also nature-loving and whimsical. Perhaps, she visited Wakanda. That resolution would be convenient.

Breaking the silence, a heavy knock sounds upon the oaken front door. Someone has an anxious hand, thinks Shanna. Momentarily, she entertains that the impersonator might have tracked her as Shanna tracks the impersonator. Briefly, she considers checking the estate's surveillance cameras. But, the knock comes—as does a male voice "Madam Plunder, we know that you are at home. Please allow us in. We have valuable information." The jungle queen tenses a bit. Possibly, her doppelganger, if a shapeshifter, could imitate a male. But, she is female to Shanna's knowledge. And, who are "we"? Maybe, the mimic is a collective beast. Oh well, when Shanna opens the door, the being enters a She-Devil's lair. The savage lady strides and bounces catlike to the door. She ducks slightly when opening it.

First, cigarette smoke meets her sniffing nostrils. Then, her narrowed eyes behold two frumpy sorts in the evening mist. They are a man and a woman. The man has thinning brown hair, thick face, and tan trenchcoat. Within the trenchcoat are plain white shirt, khaki pants, and a sidearm. His umber oxfords advance. He is entering the den before being fully invited.

Shanna steps in his path. The beefy, armed man does not scare her. Her animal gaze meets his and silently tells him to stay still until she assesses, "We have not met. Do you have business here?"

"That we do, love," a friendly female voice twitters.

The woman has wispy white hair, ruddy round face, and purple alpaca blazer. Upon her head sits a canary broadbrim, an emerald umbrella stands beside her. Her hand shakes Shanna's. The lady of the house lets the two enter. The large man deftly flicks his tobacco outside just as the door closes.

He steps back from Shanna's puffed chest, "Pardon my forwardness, madam. We three are all people of action, one supposes. I am Chief Inspector Dai Thomas of Scotland Yard. This woman is Miss Emelia Witherspoon, a clairvoyant [ . ] It is our pleasure to meet you and to serve you."

"Serve me how? Are you the new butler? The Plunders could use a tough one. The previous two are dead," Shanna jokes.

"Willis and Feepers, yes. No, I am not here to replace them," Thomas impresses O'Hara-Plunder with his knowledge of the estate. Of course, he is British intelligence.

Witherspoon steps in, "Shanna, we have useful information about the Shanna impersonator. Wakanda's King T'Challa contacted Mr. Thomas, for Black Panther thought UK intelligence might have information for you. In turn, Inspector Thomas contacted me with whom he works often."

Dai lights another cigarette, "May Miss Witherspoon and I expedite your investigation?"

"I wish that you would," Shanna encourages politely.

"Well then," Witherspoon responds, "Allow me to communicate what my second sight has seen. I have seen your future. It is in New York."

"The impersonator is in New York?" Shanna queries.

"Both your doppelganger and your future are in New York," Witherspoon confirms, "My clairvoyance has clearly seen this shapeshifter shift locations to Manhattan soon after having traveled elsewhere. Exotic Asia, I believe."

"The impersonator is definitely a shapeshifter?" Shanna queries.

"Quite possibly," Witherspoon answers, "Sometimes, I see your nemesis as a fire, sometimes a whip, sometimes a seductress. These three images are all signs of a shapeshifter."

Interjecting, Dai suggests, "Perhaps, you can beat the being there. Scotland Yard could arrange swift transport from Kentish Town to Heathrow once you are ready to pursue your identity thief."

"Thank you. Gladly, I shall catch this worm in the Big Apple," Shanna nods, "Miss Witherspoon, do you have any other insight to share. I wish to prepare for the hunt."

Inspector Thomas interjects, "Actually, madam, I have some intelligence. Your quarry might go by the appellation 'Bonnie MacDonald.' Let me explain. . . . ."


	7. Chapter 7: Of Peahens and Peons

**Chapter 7**: **Of Peahens and Peons**

Bonnie MacDonald smirks at the brutality before her. Mistress of the whip, the sadist smirks as Shen Kuei's sidekick strikes down his sparring partner. Bestially aroused, Pavane gazes upon her former lover Shen Kuei—the Cat—as the kung-fu master pummels his sparring partner tiger claw style. Like her whip, Cat's appendages crack, resound, tear across flesh. Cat bats his dogged human toy. Half-heartedly, the bloody cur raises body and raises arms. He has good form. But, in a pardine flash, Cat leg-whips the abused man painfully to his knees. The animal trainer admires the human panther before her. Then again, she always has. Blushing upon her alabaster skin, Bonnie admires the feline tattoo upon her love's hard, perspiring chest, and Pavane fantasizes about the draconic branding upon Iron Fist's. She will tear the very crest from Iron Fist's chest. Wetting her lips, she coos in dalliance. Her fancy dallies in images of flaying and skinning Iron Fist just as Rand's Aguila flayed and skinned her. He will lose face just as she lost face. Daniel Rand's face and wyrm will hang witchy upon a wall at her Surrey manor.

"Stay!" Cat commands the dog in the dirt, "You were in the dirt when Shang-Chi bested you in Po Lin Monastery [see _Master of Kung-Fu _#69]. You killed several peaceful monks there, and you were in the dirt when gentle Juliette rescued you from the approaching Hong Kongese authorities. From the dirt, humane Juliette brought you—a filthy stray—to me. I was her lover; you were her ex-lover who had beaten her. She asked me to show mercy upon you. I had the compassion to make you my boy-Skullcrusher." Sloppy slaps sting the sad sack Skullcrusher (see

. ) several times.

"He is your whipping boy. I wish to make him my partner now," Bonnie unzips her dressback.

"And, is your body payment? You have repaid my generosity so before," Cat watches her dress drop. The peon does not look. Upon her fair skin, she wears nothing but an open leather vest, a hide thong, and high cowhide boots. Before Cat's gaze, the buxom seductress becomes the familiar femme fatale. Pale skin sanguines slightly. Hazel eyes lighten to blue. Red hair turns blonde. Big breast tightens and tones. Waist and legs become svelte.

"We were lovers and equals, Shen Kuia," revealed Pavane uses Cat's real name.

Cat snickers, "Skullcrusher and you were my agents. You were my lover. But, neither of you were my equal. I shall show you. Sima, rise!" Shen Kuia calls Skullcrusher by real name.

Humble Chao Sima rises. But, he does not attack. Rather, he knows to extend his arms off his sides. Viciously, the master delivers roundhouse kicks into those unprotected sides. Surprisingly, the lesser man does not drop. Cat drops him with a boxer's angry fist.

He addresses Pavane again, "Shang-Chi and I have always beaten either of you when necessary. You two take beatings well."

Pavane retorts, "I am impressed with my old partner's resilience. He resiles as well as I. I return from a flaming hell to take revenge. He will rise from the purgatory of your kwan hall. Skullcrusher, rise and fight."

The peon looks at her. Weary-eyed Skullcrusher rises and assumes a fighting stance. Arms lowered, Cat strolls to Skullcrusher's careworn face, "Chao Sima, you are a terror to lesser men but a lesser man to me. I shall return your weapons and send you on your way without further violence. Once re-armed, you will slink away without challenging me. I command."

"I shall depart for a new life," Skullcrusher murmurs to Cat's chest and boots.

"Very well," Cat turns to Pavane, "Good luck in the death of Iron Fist. He poses potential trouble for me one day. He visits Tibet often. Supposedly, he visits the mythical K'un L'un. My Beijing superiors do not welcome an American hero in Tibet. Therefore, I welcome any trouble that you make for him. May you kill my potential nemesis."

"Justin Hammer wants me to kill him for similar reasons," Pavane smirks at the brutality around her.


	8. Chapter 8: Uncaged

**Chapter 8**: **Uncaged**

Snarling, the shaggy shirtless savage squats seven-hundred pounds two meters; then, he does it again and again and again and again abruptly. Always angry, the growling, man-gorilla grips great iron weight before two grungy companions within steel bars. Chestsweat spatters cement, and his barefeet scrape the rough concrete of Rykers Prison floor. Barbell crashes upon weightrack rattling. Shaking, the savage stomps to his bench. Perspiration meets plane, and he benchpresses seven-hundred pounds several times.

To his right, in shadow, a one-eyed sage stares silently. He is called Vikah. Who is left is a short, bespectacled being in t-shirt, shorts, hi-tops, and bucket hat. He is named Ditto.

Ditto jokes, "You work-out like an animal, like a monster. We should call you Monster Micah."

"I am a savage," Micah Synn grunts tossing iron upward, "I am chief of the Kinjorge and king of the jungle."

"So I hear," Ditto is not impressed, "I hear that you were on top and then got kinda fat like your rival chief Kingpin. Daredevil took you down [see _Daredevil _#214]. You have been here in Rykers ever since."

Synn actually hurls the ferric load, and it resounds like thunder throughout the room. The brute bounces to his feet, "I have grown strong again. I have a hunt before me. An intruder has invaded my den. She will not get away with that." Vikah gives Ditto the evil eye. Synn storms to his next quarry.

The barechested beast rawlifts a bowing rod with one thousand pounds upon it. Screaming Synn snaps an incredible overhead press above his head. Then, this iron mass too lands with a rumble upon the ground at the king's feet. Synn's physique quakes, "The invaders will all pay: Iron Fist, Pavane, every one. Their skins will be my trophies. Their skulls will be offerings to my god Mow. Their blood will water the earth, and their flesh will feed cockroaches." Vicar Vikah smiles at Chief Synn's zeal.

Ditto snaps his gum, "You need to be outside to do those things, and you need legal services to get you outside. My employer Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg, and Holliway provide such services, and you were right to have contacted them after noted parties trespassed into your home. Firm lawyer Mallory Book wishes to orchestrate your migration from Rykers Island's isolated unit to Manhattan Island's general population. With pleasure, Ms. Book specializes in serving the challenging legal needs of those associated with the superpowered community. Our entire firm does. And, as mentioned, Ms. Book is a firm lawyer." Ditto the shapeshifter transforms into Mallory Book.

Inmate ape Micah ogles Ditto ominously, "Ms. Book is a firm woman, I see." Aroused gaze scans from her red hair to her pink cleavage to her nude legs. From the shadows, Vikah smiles sinisterly for some reason. Streetwise Ditto pops a bubble and transforms. These two wild things scare him a bit. They are no Kraven and Calypso. They are not even Mandrill and Nekra. But still. Obviously, Ms. Book was right to refuse to meet in-person. She had feared for her own safety. So, she sent Ditto instead.

Huge "Hercules" stands akimbo before Synn and Vikah, "You two are getting out of here soon. Attorney Book will free you; then, I will drive you. Then, you'll be in your den again."

The chief nods, "Micah Synn is a warrior, not a weakling, but he has used America's laws against America before. Attorney Matt Murdoch got me out of jail once. Attorney Foggy Nelson got me a restraining order against Daredevil once."

"Yeah, then, Daredevil kicked your ass and put you in here," Ditto pops a bubble.

Later, Micah Synn actually ruts and paces like a caged beast in the back of the van. Like a wild pig, he cannot get the heat to leave his body. His head and chest burn with rage. His dry porcine tongue rasps his hispid beard before returning behind teeth clenched like tusks. His primal mind tastes already the blood of his enemies. The van stops. Like a wild boar, Synn bounds forth and gallops. Relieved, shapeshifter chauffeur disappears into NYC traffic.

Soon, crazed panting Micah Synn kneels before his god Mow. The wild man is free again. The bestial man must be still a moment and gather his thoughts. Silently, Vikah enters the loft and takes down spear and machete. Grunting, Vikah joins Synn and presents the two gifts.

Synn snatches the machete—with which one harvests, butchers, slaughters—and bursts onto the balcony. He ululates his return to Manhattan—his island.


	9. Chapter 9: Hunters Gather

**Chapter 9**: **Hunters Gather**

In Manhattan, two dangerous duos await guests. On the Upper East Side, Pavane and Skullcrusher await the guests arriving at Justin Hammer's penthouse. On the Upper West Side, Misty Knight and Colleen Wing await the guest approaching their Nightwing Investigations office. Simply Central Park separates the two assemblies.

Justin Hammer has provided Surrey girl Pavane an Upper East Side penthouse for her use. She has exercised in the immense space. She has slept most comfortably. She has gorged herself upon delicacies. Such treats are her usual regimen. Now, Pavane lies beneath her steaming bathwater. Vainly, the shapeshifter contorts her midsection to hide her full middle. Like a crocodile camouflaged, she lies beneath the hot water digesting her meal. Like a reptilian killer, she focuses utterly upon her prey. Iron Fist and his herd. She feels nothing beneath the scalding water upon her burnt skin. Her mind is feverish with vengeance beneath the fuming water. Burning rage balms her body beneath the burning bath. Vision blurry, above her, she beholds her hulking bodyguard whom she insisted join her in the bathroom while she bathed. Momentarily, he will announce that her guests—Hammer's gifts—have arrived.

Chao Sima stands erect beside the vaporous cauldron in which his mistress, savior, and employer lies. Beneath the water, she lies on full beautiful display. Like a beautiful witch, she submerges and does not drown. His gaze is his reverence. Once, he was her lover and partner; he remembers. Before her bath, he was something like her lover again in the penthouse bedroom. But, he is sure that today she saw him as merely a cock to a peahen and as a dalliance amongst boredom. Fantastically, she shapeshifts like a water spirit. He beholds her through the sweltering haze over the sultry water. She is auburn, buxom Bonnie. Then, Pavane is the golden-haired golden lady whom Chao loves. Then, repulsively, she becomes the mutilated beast below the surface. The burned witch's flayed skin and exposed flesh flower and flit in the scalding water. Nauseated, Chao wonders to what he made love today.

Thankfully, a knock comes at the domicile's door. The doorman has sent up the guests as instructed. Skullcrusher scurries from the room. The reptile surfaces from the pool with a focused, cold gaze, locked upon a goal.

On the Upper West Side, Shanna the She-Devil contacts Nightwing Investigations, "Colleen, Misty, I am glad to meet you." Shanna sits cross-legged in a papasan rattan as the three women sit in a circle. Eastern warrior Colleen Wing sits cross-legged on a cushion upon the floor. At a desk, ex-cop Misty Knight types into a computer taking her client's information.

Misty replies, "The Daughters of the Dragon are glad to make your acquaintance, Shanna. Mutual friends have sometimes mentioned you. Daredevil and the X-Men are our occasional contacts."

"I have great respect and affection for both," Shanna's fingers brush her tresses, "In fact, another X-Men associate sent me specifically to you gals."

"May we know whom?" Wing inquires.

"Do you know Emelia Witherspoon? She knows Excalibur, and she knows you two. Although, you have never met," Shanna smirks slyly.

"I'm unsurprised. She's a noted British psychic," sleuth Knight impresses sly She-Devil, "What business did you have with her?"

"She found me in London, England," the jungle queen replies, "Excalibur allies Scotland Yard's Dai Thomas, Emelia Witherspoon, and I track the same Shanna imposter. This imposter had visited Wakanda. I investigated her after her initial appearance there."

"She managed to fool King T'challa's powers of perception?" Knight asks astutely.

O'Hara-Plunder explains, "Yes, ersatz Shanna fooled King T'challa. Wakanda had accepted two panther corpses after the cats' evil mistress Pavane fought Iron Fist and you guys here in America."

"I remember. I slew the cats," warrior Wing recalls, "One's name was Bibi."

Shanna continues, "The big cats were no doubt beautiful creatures—albeit deadly ones. I visited Wakanda to pay my respects. However, upon arrival, the Wakandans informed me that I had already apparently been there. A Shanna had paid her respects to the cats and paid her regards to Black Panther. His agents placed her in England. I pursued the prey."

"Could this fake Shanna be Pavane in a disguise?" Knight voices the question.

Shanna muses, "Anything is possible. I know Pavane very little. Perhaps, Chameleon impersonated me like he did in an episode of _Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends_."

"I've seen that episode," Misty cracks a smile, "I do not remember Pavane ever being a Chameleon, though. So, if not she, who might this person be?"

Jungle queen reveals, "Miss Witherspoon believes the being to be a shapeshifter calling itself 'Bonnie MacDonald.' Her clairvoyance has told her so. Her ESP has tracked the thing from place to place right here to Manhattan. Psychic Witherspoon senses two truths. One, my doppelganger poses a future threat to me. Two, 'Bonnie' holds existing antipathy toward you two. Therefore, I looked up you two when pursuing this protean prey to Manhattan. You detectives might aid my manhunt, and you ladies are targets yourselves. So, what do you think? What do you know?"

Wing meditates upon the floor momentarily. Suddenly, she springs up, "To my knowledge, no has reported that an ersatz Shanna swings about the island. As a warrior, I predict that she, or it, waits in ambush. Obviously, a shapeshifter loves subterfuge."

Knight proposes plans, "Still, I should check with the NYPD. As you know, Shanna, New York is a big ol' city. Some police report somewhere might hold a clue. I shall start sorting information tonight."

"Thank you. Your expediency is much appreciated," Shanna nods.

"Any expediency is important," Wing notes, "A shapeshifter can be hard to find. By nature, it could look like anyone."

"It has an identity of Bonnie MacDonald. What does she look like?" Knight asks.

"Miss Witherspoon thinks that MacDonald might be a redhead such as I," Shanna answers.

"Well, you people are mercurial," Knight jokes.

She-Devil snorts, "You're funny."

"Anyway, how can we narrow this trickster's identity?" Wing returns to topic, "What do we think? What do we know?"

"We know that this changeling holds a grudge against the Daughters of the Dragon," Knight answers, "Our transmuting nemeses Master Khan or Super-Skrull could be messing with us again."

"We know that our subject is wealthy and connected like Master Khan," Wing advances the investigation, "MacDonald moves from Africa to Europe to North America easily and quickly."

"Finally, we know that the person has a great affection and respect for animals," Shanna

pronounces, "Zoos are good places to investigate. They are also good places for an ambush if warrior Wing is right about this metamorph waiting in ambush. Perhaps, I could provoke an attack this evening in my skimpy skins at the Central Park Zoo nearby this office."

Knight shrugs, "You used to work at the Central Park Zoo. Your prey would be in your territory. Just pray that you are not meeting Super-Skrull alone."

"As one expects, you are very brave," Wing admires the Savage Land's queen, "Misty will visit her old friends the NYPD. You will visit your old stomping ground. I shall contact Iron Fist. He is an ally. And, his enemies tend to be our enemies. This kitsune Bonnie could threaten him too. As they say, the life you save could be your own."

Ex-officer Knight dispatches, "Okay, let us split up. We should each be able to handle ourselves."

"See you again soon," Shanna speaks. Her words vibrate a window slightly. Upon the glass, a laser reads the slight vibration, and it transmits "see you again soon" into space above. From outer space, a Hammer satellite speaks into a headset on the Upper East Side. In Pavane's penthouse, Spymaster listens at that headset. He turns to his three companions. Sans costume, Nathan Lemon, Spymaster, is one of the guests whom Hammer's doorman sent to Pavane.

Before Spymaster, Skullcrusher and Pavane stand in their living room. They are dressed and battle-ready. Pavane swishes her bloodthirsty leather whip. Skullcrusher twirls his deadly gunmetal balls. Behind Pavane, guest Ebenezer Laughton gazes into a glinting glaive—a butcher knife from the kitchen. Unattired Scarecrow, homicidal maniac, meets his cold eyes in the cold steel, yet stainless.

"Ebenezer, don your mask," Spymaster removes the headset, "They are splitting up to hunt for us. We shall, of course, hunt them first. I shall get a certain wild redhead in the foliage of Central Park. You three close-in on another quarry."

Laughton quivers. He dons his burlap mask and pulls its cord tight. Choking, he smiles. Pavane smiles. Someone else understands death and pain as she does. Passionately, she cracks the whip, and her revenge begins.


	10. Chapter 10: Hot Pursuit

Chapter 10: Hot Pursuit

Shanna loves and hates being back at Central Park Zoo. She loves watching the snow leopards before her. They are beautiful creatures frolicking upon the rocks in their enclosure. She loves that they become active as the sun abates around late afternoon closing time. Occasionally, the playing kitties look upon her in her leopard skin, and they are curious. Shanna loves the cooling earth beneath her feet and the fresh air around her. Central Park is some Savage Land amidst New York City. Central Park is some lush, living forest amidst the barren concrete canyons.

But, the jungle queen hates that the snow leopards remind her of like leopards lost long ago. At this very zoo, young Shanna O'Hara worked as a zoologist, and she worked lovingly with a leopard named Julani. Julani died when a maniacal zoo guard gunned her down (see _Shanna the She-Devil _#1). The great cat had two cubs Ina and Biri. The young naturalist took them to Africa and raised them. The cubs became adults, and Shanna O'Hara became Shanna the She-Devil. Then, during one of the trio's adventures, madman Raga-Shah sacrificed savagely the animals to god Kali (see _Savage Tales _#9).

Shanna hates that she presently awaits an attack from a sneak. Half-naked, the heroine is comfortable and uncomfortable. On one hand, the huntress anticipates ambushing her prey. On the other, she is bait. A breeze brushes her bare hip.

Spymaster likes what he sees when he arrives at the zoo. At the 63rd Street entrance, the sneak walks right past the guard locking the gate for the night. After all, the security guard need not suspect the NYPD cop before him. "Officer Smith" explains that superhero Shanna contacted the NYPD about potential troublemakers at the zoo. One foot patrol is the only man that the department could spare. Mindlessly, the guard buys the story. Who does not always believe a police officer?

"Could you show me where the She-Devil is now?" the spysmith investigagtes, "I would like to see her on the security station's cameras."

"I have liked catching her on-camera this evening too," guard Dwayne Samuels grins, "If you're foot patrol, Officer Smith, you're going to like checking-out these feet and the rest of Shanna. I have. And, I used to check-out She-Hulk and Sue Richards when working at the Baxter Building [see _Fantastic Four _#278]."

"Um, right," Smith rolls his eyes.

The two "lawmen" go past the Arsenal administration building to the guard station near the zoo's entrance. Darkness is settling into the city at around 5:40 p.m. Spymaster likes what he spies once he searches for Shanna. The cameras show her in the west zoo near the snow leopards. She seems enthralled and lost in thought. Beside Smith, Samuels seems enthralled and lost in lascivious thought. A palmstrike smacks Samuels alongside the head and drops the dirty old man to the ground. Handcuffs fetter the unconscious guard to a tableleg. Then, simply, masking tape bonds his mouth.

Spymaster reflects aloud, "I won't be using chains and muzzles on that she-beast out there. I have a better plan for taking her down."

Smith snatches keys off Samuels, and he opens a cabinet. Inside, he spies a tranquilizer pistol and three darts. His impromptu plans will work. Normally, a spymaster plans missions meticulously, but his actions need to be quick this evening. For Spymaster's master Justin Hammer, Pavane must strike Nightwing Investigations and Iron Fist, and Shanna must not interfere. Spymaster must sneak-up on his cagey prey without startling her. He is minimally armed. He has the dartgun on his hip, a knife upon his leg (as does Shanna), a 9mm within his shirt, and a secret weapon upon his back. Otherwise, he has his wits against the huntress's wits, and he has his formidable fighting prowess against a superior fighter and acrobat. The She-Devil is a most dangerous game. Furthermore, Spymaster must not kill her. This hunt's prey are the Daughters of the Dragon and Iron Fist. Hammer would not like if Ka-Zar and his allies sought revenge for a murdered wife. That would be sloppy mission creep. Focused, the professional creeps toward the facility's west end.

On the westside, Shanna stands before the red pandas adjacent to the snow leopards. In the panda exhibit's lagoon, she considers her ravishing reflection and hopes that she presents a tempting target for a Central Park mugging. Behind her, Officer Smith looks over his tempting target. Shanna seems relaxed. Relaxed, she leans her bosom forward and presents behind her a ham and her footsole. Smith studies her from the east. He is the approaching shadow from the west behind her. Surely, the fair game will let a warden approach without startling.

He is nearly upon her. Shanna stands at the top of the exhibit's stairway. Thick foliage stands on either side of the steps, and the verdant brush frames the titian-tressed target. The spy stalks upward toward her. Excitedly, he fingers the secret weapon upon his person. He thinks that he will capture her with it and then pull out his gun.

Unexpectedly, Shanna turns calmly toward him. "Good evening, officer. May I help you?" The jungle queen assesses him standing beneath her on the steps. His face is just at the level of the dirt and her feet.

"I'm Officer Smith from NYPD. Dwayne Samuels spotted me on 5th Avenue doing footpatrol. He invited me in to assist you, ma'am," the hunter stands still before his alert prey.

Hazel eyes roll understandably, "That security guard did seem like a sweet old man, but he did not seem like the alpha of the pack. My criminal company tonight might be more dangerous than your average cop can handle. Did Mr. Samuels explain the situation? This job might require someone in a superhero's uniform."

Smith chuckles and leers friendly-like, "And, a lovely uniform you wear, dear. Do all the supergals wear fur bikinis and a lovely smile."

"Just the real she-devils," the redhead winks and grins, "Say, Officer Smith, I was just about to walk to the next exhibit. Would you leady the way? The path is narrow, and I don't want to brush past you." Seductively, Shanna strokes her pelt.

The knight clears his throat and turns away from her. He leads her down the path. Thick foliage grows on either side. She has no room to run when he. . . . . From his shirtfront, Smith draws his 9mm, and he whirls around to fire it slightly above her head. In theory, Shanna will duck, and Spymaster will throw his secret weapon over her. But, her head and face are not where he expected. She is not to be seen.

Where is she if not on the path? Suddenly, he knows. In a blur, a branch above dips; a heroine swings; and hard heels uppercut him fiercely. The master spy goes ass over teakettle down the steps. He bruises his bottom at the bottom.

Before the monkey exhibit, snarling Spymaster fires his semi-auto eight times in an arc at the foliage before him. On his ass, he empties the clip. Perhaps, he hits the she-ape hidden somewhere in the green. He must end this mission quickly. Quickly, he switches clips. The gunfire is sure to bring the real police. The nearby simians raise an alarm. They go ape. To Shanna's further benefit, the noise conceals any noise that the huntress could possibly be making.

Amidst the din, a hunting knife whistles from the bushes. Its hilt faces Spymaster, and the projectile knocks the handgun from his hand. "My man Daredevil does similar things with his billy club. He is also a good jumper—like me," Shanna bounds from the bushes and lands astraddle over prone Spymaster, "He survives this urban jungle very well. I adapt like he." The she-wolf's hand pins the male on his back. Pinning is how wolves show dominance.

Spymaster goes submissive and lax. Bluffing is how sneaky hunters trap their prey.

"Your tranquilizer gun gave you away, Bonnie," Shanna calls him by his presumed name, "I spot potential threats well." She reaches down and pulls out his gun. She tosses it aside casually by the knife that dislodged his other gun.

"I hate guns. One took my mother from me. Another took a beloved animal friend (Julani) at this very zoo. I hate people taking my identity from me. I hate tricksters who take me away from my husband and child in the Savage Land. I kinda hate you. You had better explain yourself. What are you up to, bitch?," the hot-blooded heroine slaps the dog upon whom she stoops.

The pinned person states, "I'm not Bonnie. I'm a guy." To free itself, the game throws the huntress off of hers. A devious left hand shoots to her right breast and crushes it in a claw. Its right companion crosses over and slides beneath pelt, and it twists her titty for all its worth.

Howling, she pummels him. But, her wild swats are off of the mark, and his crossed arms effectively keep her distant anyway. She pulls away as much as she dares with his right hand clamped upon tender flesh. No longer completely pinned, Spymaster can bend his knees. His knees strike the back of her knees, and she trips back upon her back. He releases her. He must reach his guns.

The thug almost has his tranq gun in hand—when a rock hits it and skids it away. The jungle girl is resilient and resourceful. From behind him, she taunts, "Come follow me into the trees if you dare. Maybe, I'll feed your appendages to the polar bears straight ahead. Your hands deserve to be torn off." Strides sound away into the twilight.

"Damn, she's quick and clever," Smith tells himself. Shanna simultaneously sprints and zig-zags from Spymaster. He cannot get a good shot by the time that he has gun in-hand. It is time for his secret weapon. He draws its skeins off of his sweaty back. He strolls after her. He must end this hunt quickly, yet he must stalk her carefully lest she ambush him. He advances with the folded weapon in his hands. "At least, she lacks her knife" he tells himself. She should be unarmed except for her hands, feet, wits, and every weapon that she can improvise.

At a fork, Shanna has gone one of three ways. She could be to the left amongst herd animals. She could be to the right toward the polar bears. Or, she could be straight ahead in the lush foliage of the crane exhibit.

"I'm in here, pig," Shanna mocks him from the bush.

The bird has stupidly given away her position. Into the crane exhibit, the hunter hurls the unfolded net onto exactly where she must be. The captured bird squawks. The master hits a belt button. Shanna screams hysterically in the electrified net. She is in his clutches. He rips a dart into the bush, and he smiles.

"Aaaaah, you got me, doc. What a maroon," bugs some bunny to Spymaster's right. He cannot see Shanna, however. By his own ingenuity, he has produced thick, grey smoke from the thick greenery. Hidden, she could attack at any minute. However, he hears instead a splash to the right, and he knows that she swims away through the snow monkeys' lagoon. Spymaster reloads the dartgun. He has only two tranqs remaining.

Shanna explodes from the water on the lagoon's far bank. Surprisingly, Samuels stands there before the owl house. With wisdom perched above, the old man brazenly warns advancing Smith "I've called the police, you maniac cop!"

"Do you want to be a hostage?" Shanna chastises. Distracted, she has just hesitated during battle. Charging Spymaster arrives. And, to the heroine's surprise, the criminal tackles relatively harmless Samuels first. The impact even breaks the poor man's rib. Shanna hears the crack. And, she feels sympathetic pain beneath her own shortrib. Wait. That pain is not sympathy, and that crack was not the tackle. A tranquilizer dart sticks tingling and painful in her liver. Abdominal injections can work very quickly.

"Run, Dwayne, I've got him," Shanna is brave. The dazed She-Devil charges Spymaster. Unexpectedly, Spymaster just lets her plow into him. Then, he monkeyflips the jungle girl onto her back. He slams a needle into her bosom. She gasps. She'll be out soon, and she knows it. Having delivered his load, the grinning goon rises. Screw it. She has been the damsel in distress before. For a while there, Ka-Zar the Savage rescued her during every adventure. She rises to faltering feet. On shaky legs, she sprints sloppily away. Squadcar sirens sound outside the zoo gate. She might make it to the police. Purposefully, Officer Smith pounds pavement behind her. Spymaster has drawn his combat knife for some reason.

Shanna's lonely knife is all that officers find upon entering. The knife lies before a monkey exhibit, but Shanna the She-Devil is nowhere to be seen. A security guard lies near the owl exhibit, and paramedics arrive to help him. Officer Charlotte Jones and colleagues check security footage. They view the fight and the contest's end. A stumbling Shanna reaches the sea lion exhibit near the gate beyond which police arrive. The video's bad guy reaches her. For some reason, he has out a combat knife. Then, some device jams the cameras. Then, the two are gone.

Nearby, Shanna is out of it. And, she is nude. Spymaster's knife cut away her costume from her unconscious form. Then, he bound the nature girl in her own pelt. Now, he slams shut a storage cage inside The Arsenal, closed for the night. The spymaster is pleased with himself. He has improvised well.

Officer Smith's walkie crackles. The terrible trio—Pavane, Skullcrusher, Scarecrow—are just about to move on Wing. Spymaster assures them that neither Shanna nor Knight will be a problem.


	11. Chapter 11: There is more than one way

**Chapter 11**: **"There is more than one way. . . . ."**

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you? Have you ever seen an animal skinned? That's what I'm going to do to you." _The Black Cat _(1934)

Pavane radios Spymaster. Spymaster radios Pavane. Shanna will not be a problem. Nor will Knight be soon. Outside Nightwing Investigations, the mistress and her men skulk in the shadowy hallway of a building empty for the evening. The corridor's lights are dimmed. In the low light, an ominous iron ball and chain hangs. A steel butcher knife gleams beneath raging eyes within a dull burlap mask. Susurrating, the she-assassin hisses her plans to her men. Then, ersatz Shanna passes into an office through a door left courteously open for Misty and Shanna's return.

Within, a keen katana glints beneath lights within a dojo attached to the main office. Slippers and sleeves move noiselessly in practice. Fluorescent buzz and controlled breathing are the room's only sounds. Samurai Colleen Wing prepares for her future foes. Soon, her sisters-in-arms will return, and they will bring the warrior her objectives. On her terms, Wing will face her enemies.

Outside the dojo, a red-eyed, red-haired she-devil glares upon a human dog. That bitch killed Pavane's cats. That bitch nearly took Pavane's life. That bitch tore away Pavane's beautiful semblance. Naked in her rage, the she-demon imagines her whip upon a wretched, whimpering woman warrior. Pavane will rip the proud robe from Wing's shoulders. Then, her scourge will tear the skin from the pretty Colleen's back. The Daughter of the Dragon will burn as Pavane burned.

In Shanna's guise, Pavane wears catskin, and she pads catlike toward her prey. She will pounce. Then, Skullcrusher and Scarecrow will arrive in an instant like a murder of crows. Upon Wing, Pavane will have her revenge.

Seized by a slight sound, Colleen Wing pauses in her workout. She peers through the dojo's doorway into the darkened office. She sees only furniture in an unoccupied room. Cautiously, she moves toward the room. Pavane stands just to the side of the doorway. She hid there upon seeing her prey pause and peer.

Alert, warrior Wing hears someone inhale sharply beside the doorway. Someone stands there hiding. Misty or Shanna would have announced herself. The detective thinks. Perhaps, Bonnie stands there. Insurgents love subterfuge. The warrior considers. Wing could slam her sword right through the plaster wall and right through the intruder. However, the detective is curious like a cur. Thus, she makes a possible mistake. She sheaths her sword upon her hip. It is close enough if needed. Nonchalantly, Wing steps into her office. Immediately, Pavane's target whips herself around to face the prowler. She faces a burning mane of red hair around a shadow-shrouded visage. From that visage, fiery eyes behold her face in turn. Those raging eyes would engulf and immolate Wing's face if they could. Like Hecate's eyes, those red orbs phase to hazel, Shanna's natural color. Wing knows that a changeling has come calling.

Through sanguine crimson, Pavane beheld her hated enemy enter the room. Perhaps, her dark face even showed the blood in her eyes. But, quickly, she became again a professional killer. Like a natural killer, she calmed herself and composed her countenance. Presently, like a panther, Pavane smiles slyly and plays with her prey. She strokes the samurai's sleeve and whispers "Boo. I'm back."

Wing plays along. Wing winks, "I see that, Shanna. You have returned. How was hoodlum hunting at the zoo? Did you get any bad guys to chase you in that outfit?"

"No, no dogs got my scent. I did not find their trails either," the lewdly-dressed lady lilts. On her hip is a pouch. She moves her right hand downward to touch it. Wing notices it. Shanna did not leave with such a purse.

Pavane notices that Wing notices. "Maybe, I need to expose more flesh," a left hand lifts leopard bra a little. Hopefully, the sinister hand distracts the righteous hero. With her other digits, the sinner fingers her pouch and slides her phalanges inside it. She grins.

Wing handles the hard hilt upon her middle. Perhaps, she will unsheathe the sword and pin her prey bloodily to the wall afterall. Lady locks eyes with tramp. She smirks.

Like a cobra, the leather whip shoots from the pouch. Masterfully, Pavane draws and cracks the weapon in one fluid underhanded motion. Something sprays. Something thuds. Ersatz Shanna smiles; she made her spray. Pavane could have used Blacklash's whip. That rod would have quickly cut the c*** in half. However, Pavane wants Wing to suffer under the leather. She wants to rip her raw by the rawhide.

Wait. Where is Wing? She must have dodged. The bullwhip only marred and splintered a coffeetable behind the cow. The wood sprayed.

Holy shit! Where's the whip?! Some blade sliced it in mid-motion and split it from its hilt, now impotent in Pavane's palm. The thong thudded upon the floor. Shanna screams. Who is Pavane sans whip?

"Turn around," Wing dodged into the dojo behind Pavane. Witch wheels. Colleen backhands bitch. Fast as lightning, karate champ leg-swipes kung-fu fighter. Pulling hair, heroine drops villain upon her back. This stupid catfight is over. Slippers straddle prone peahen. Swordtip pokes palate. Samurai stands over subjugated blackguard—just as Shanna pinned Spymaster earlier this evening. Pinning is how warriors show dominance.

The dragon daughter addresses the downed dog over whom she stands, "Shanna rarely uses a bullwhip, but Pavane does all of the time. Is that you, Pavane? Do I address you correctly?"

Bared teeth pronounce, "No, wench, you do not address me properly. I am your mistress. I am many people's mistress." Shanna spies someone behind Wing in the dojo, and Pavane smiles like a cheshire. Karate kitty will not win this catfight.

The air whistles. A bolo whirls toward warrior's back. The samurai has only a mere moment to tense trained muscles. The steel-balled bolo nigh breaks her neck when it wraps. Her air cuts off. Blood blasts into her brain. Eyes bug, and face purples. Wing removes the sword from the downed diva. It might cut the chain choking her. Beneath her, Shanna tumbles backward away from Wing. Behind her, a screaming someone besets. Before her, from the hallway, a shadowy simian swings in through the doorframe. The shadow carries a shining knife in its teeth.

The samurai controls her breathing and her fear. First, she must counter-attack. Then, she must cleave the bolo. Reaching into her robe, she sprays shuriken upon the shrieking chimp behind her. Circling chains clatter the cloud of caltrops away.

Taking fighting position, Wing turns sideways in the doorway. Her aching eyes assess. To her right, a brute spins deadly spheres. To her left, Pavane stands poised to kill. Beside Pavane, a man-monkey squats and salivates. Drool dribbles over the knife in his mouth. He intends that butcher blade for something sinister. Wing might gulp. However, she is choking horrendously. She must remove the bolo's ballast balls before she blacks out. She grabs iron links and aims her steel blade.

"Skullcrusher, crush her skull," Pavane pronounces. Skullcrusher swings his weapon high. Wing's sword moves to block the incoming bludgeon. Instantly, Pavane ends the fight. With savage quickness, Pavane pounces upon pretty Colleen. Her stunted whiphilt hacks Wing's swordarm. Iron orb impacts temple. The samurai staggers. Samurai do not surrender. Scarlet serum flows freely over bloodshot eyes and purple face. She closes her eyes to gather inner fires. But, she collapses. Colleen Wing is out cold.

"My thrust could have killed you, love," Skullcrusher chides gently his mistress who dove toward his coup de grace.

"Yes, a crunt can make one look like a . . . her" Pavane points to fallen foe, "I would not have cared. I would not have cared had you cracked my cranium and bashed my brains. I would not have cared had the samurai slammed her blade through both of my palates. Either event would have ended my troubled psyche and released me from my living nightmare." Within, Pavane's memories re-gather the fires that burnt her bones, took her beauty, and brought this mission.

"Release the fearful thing inside her," Scarecrow whispers. He strides to Wing and unbinds her throat. Like he would downed game, he grabs her lower jaw hard and jerks her limp carcass toward him. Predatively, he peers down her opened pink gullet, and he imagines releasing a fearful thing inside her. Drool drops from his lips into her exposed gorge. He wants to see her on the inside. She brings him closer to God.

Protean Pavane shifts from Shanna to original form. Animal-handler Pavane pets Scarecrow's burlap cheek, "She shall be yours soon, Ebenezer. But, her proud veneer shall presently be mine." As she imagined, the wronged woman takes Colleen's beautiful robe. Then her slippers. Then her tanktop. Then her trousers. Spymaster did something similar to beaten Shanna in Central Park. Excitedly, Scarecrow ogles crumpled Colleen and considers creamy skin. He runs flat cold steel over it. Then, he runs cupped rough glove.

"You took her frippery. I will take her flesh," crazed man tells his cruel mistress. Abruptly, he drags her into the dojo. Blood dribbles a trail across the floor. Airway unhindered, hazy heroine heaves breasts for breath. "Maybe, she'll scream," Scarecrow mumbles to himself.

Skullcrusher takes Wing's proud meitou katana and considers it. He mulls, "Typically, samurai warriors deal in deathblows. They are trained to strike but once and fatally. She should have killed you at swordpoint. Then, she would have had but two opponents remaining."

"I'm sure that the thought occurred to her to run me through," the shrew shrugs, "Now, Wing shall be a dead hero instead of a live killer. We live killers shall kill Iron Fist yet tonight. Presently, you and I shall depart for the Rand-Meachum building. Here, Scarecrow has his occupation, and I leave him an implement for his gruesome activities."

"The death of Iron Fist," Skullcrusher smirks.

On tip-toes, Pavane pecks girlishly her man's cheek. "The death of Iron Fist," she giggles. She seems most stimulated. She cradles her pouch and skips along the bloodtrail into the dojo.

"Ooooh, Ebenezer, I took a souvenir from Montenegro upon slaying him," Pavane sing-songs to Scarecrow, "I know that you have a toolbox in the hallway. But, I am sure that Monte would want to be here in spirit and instrument for a Daughter of the Dragon's death. Even if I could not convince him to come in person. So, I killed him personally."

Scarecrow opens the sack. He eyes the sandy-haired lass lying. He sings a favorite movietune over the moaning, murmuring, near-naked woman at his feet, "Oh, pretty lady. . . . ."


	12. Chapter 12: Basement Circus

**Chapter 12**: Basement Circus

Dear readers: What happens to poor Colleen Wing? We shall know all the gory details in the very next chapter. But, for now, let us visit her partner in crime Misty Knight at Manhattan's 12th Precinct. Meanwhile. . . . .

Investigator Misty Knight entreats the man before her, "Who is Bonnie MacDonald? And, where is she in New York right now as she prepares her dastardly doings against the Daughters of the Dragon? Some police report somewhere might hold a clue."

"Hell, Misty, I didn't even know that Shanna was in town," Cap. Raphael Scarfe answers, "much less a Shanna the She-Devil doppelganger." Scarfe is Knight's long-time investigative partner. He was with her during her police career, and he has been helpful during her p.i. one. Misty and Rafe visit in the 12th Precinct's basement archives.

The police captain smokes a cigarette amidst the flammable materials of the basement archives. In this era, public smoking is not yet banned from public buildings, and Scarfe uses the ashtray on the desk at which Knight sits. Misty inhales pungent, hot vapors from her steaming coffee. Scarfe's assistant Pam just brought a hot cup and then strolled back down the hall to her station.

"It's okay that you don't know everything, boy," distaff detective digs, "New York is called Mad City for good reason. Partially, we have so many costumed screwballs bouncing around the concrete canyons. How would one more odd, hero-hating shapeshifter even stick out?"

"Ersatz Shanna would be just another strange beast in the concrete jungle," states gray smoke, "What do we know about her specifically?"

"She might like big cats," says a mug behind a mug, "She visited Wakanda to pay her respects to two slain animals?"

"No shit? She must have money to spare," Scarfe sniffs.

"Nightwing Investigations thinks that she does," Knight nods, "A wealthy animal-loving villain could be Kraven the Hunter. Although, he would have to be in drag."

Raphael laughs, "Well, Kraven did have that furry boa on his costume. You never can tell some things. Although, I can tell you that the She-Devil ain't him. Kraven blew his brains out awhile back. He's dead."

Misty states, "Our foe Pavane is supposedly dead too. But, we girls suspect that Bonnie might be she. The dead panthers were hers."

"Is this Pavane a spy?" he wonders.

"Yes, a good one. She gave MI6 troubles several times," she affirms.

"I thought that she might be," the captain puffs, "Our suspect would have to be a master of disguise—like an espionage agent."

"Like a spymaster. Sure, I deduced the same instantly," the gumshoe sips java. Coffee vapor and tobacco smoke rise into a cloud over the two thinkers.

Upstairs, a battered officer enters the 12th Precinct station. The desk clerk notices his rough appearance and notices him. The desk clerk has never seen this patrolman before. "Smith" reads the nametag. Smith produces a card that unlocks the door into the station beyond the desk. He must belong, and the clerk lets him through. Besides, what criminal brashly and stupidly walks right into a police station?

Downstairs, Knight describes the sought shapeshifter, "Like Shanna, Bonnie MacDonald is a redhead, a wealthy woman, and a possible exotic animal-lover."

"You just described much of the Upper East Side," Scarfe chuckles, "Perhaps, we should look for her penthouse base there. How fortuitous would it be were we to look there and find her?"

Knight shares the chuckle, "That would be lucky. However, I suspect that she comes for me at some point. Remember, she wants Iron Fist, Colleen, and me. A girl never knows. An ominous, tall dark stranger could show up at anytime."

Scarfe juts his lit coffin nail at her, "Say, I can think of one more suspect. Didn't Iron Fist and you guys used to have a foe called Master Khan? That mofo hated you three with a fucken passion. By sorcery, he could alter his appearance. What ever happened to that creep-o? Where is he now?"

Misty waves a hand into the proximity's pall, "I have no clue. He disappeared. He could be as near or as far as anyone."

One floor above, Sgt. Tyrone King stands in the elevator. The doors open. Officer Smith steps into the car. Immediately, he notices that the car is strangely dark. It is very shadowy, and he can barely see. A very cautious man, Spymaster scans the darkness. From the shadows, King examines him back. The hood sees no one and nothing. Glowing buttons are the only lights in the dim closet. On a mission, his hand selects one like a moth selects a flame, just as King intended. And, the coffin descends, just as King intended. Standing right behind Spymaster, Tyrone King is Master Khan in diabolic disguise.

The doors open. Before him, Spymaster sees catacombs little better lit than the vessel that he exits. Before him, a blond-haired police clerk sits on her desk's top and flirts with her beau. Girlishly, she scissor-kicks the legs in her skirt. Gleefully, she giggles and blushes. With one hand, she plays with her glasses. With the other, she touches the arm of a gray-haired, grinning patrolman returning the caress.

"Hi. I need to use a computer to check a suspect's previous record," a villain interrupts the two.

Pam hops down from the desk, "Sure. I'll set you up on a computer. You can work beside Ms. Knight and Cap. Scarfe down there." Her thumb indicates two people a short distance away down a hazy hall.

There, Misty converses with a black-haired plain-clothes detective. Spymaster is glad to find her right where his electronic eavesdropping said that she would be. "Sure, please plop me right beside her," Smith winks at Pam, "Thank you." He steps to follow Pam.

However, unexpectedly, a strong hand grabs his arm. The old patrolman turns the new face around. "Ben McMurty," Officer McMurty takes Smith's hand and shakes Smith's hand, "I don't believe that I've seen your face before—bruised or otherwise."

Affectionately, Spymaster strokes his battle bruises, "I had to take down a wild woman around sunset tonight."

"Oh, I see. Did you call for back-up—Smith?" McMurty reads the unfamiliar face's common name, "I don't recall you calling for back-up on the radio." The police impostor just smirks and jerks his hand from the policeman's grip.

"Who was the perp? Is she anyone whom I would know?" the grizzled grills.

Smith has his conceits, "Yeah, Princess Python."

"And, you took her down all by yourself, did you?" McMurty steps toward Smith.

"Yeah. I did. Or maybe, I had some back-up too," Smith steps toward McMurty, "I don't remember." They are roughed face to roughed face. New Yorkers are aggressive types. New York cops are even more so. And, elite spies are even more so.

Yellowed teeth smile wide into reddening face, "Okey-dokey—son. You just go do your homework on Princess Python. I'll be around. Just follow my young bride."

"We're married recently," Pam takes Smith's arm and leads him away, "Ben and I have had always a crush on each other [see _Namor, the Sub-Mariner _#22]."

"Congratulations," Smith pats Mrs. McMurty affectionately while locking eyes with Ben.

Pam and Spymaster approach Raphael and Misty. Scarfe explains the archive's computer system to Knight, "You may check our database freely. Our station has an intranet between the computers. Just type in your search criteria to see what records can offer."

The Knight snickers, "I feel like Bruce Wayne at his Bat-computer in the funny books. Welcome to the 90s. Welcome to the so-called 'on-line age.' Welcome to the future."

Scarfe snubs his cigarette, "Yeah, I know. We'll see where technology and life, and this whole 'internet' thing, are in twenty years. For now, I have to go fight crime in Gotham. Good luck, dear." Scarfe departs.

Officer Smith arrives. Like the proverbial spider, he sits down beside her, but she does not turn away. Briefly, she studies and assesses him. He looks at her. She gets a good look at him and seems to get a good vibe from him. Smirking, he turns to his terminal. The dastard slips a disk into the computer's drive. A minacious program enters the interconnected cyberspace between the sleuth and the spy.

Unaware, Misty Knight types upon her keyboard. The screen glows upon her face. Steady glare shines into her eyes, and she stares into the light. Her fingers dance. Glow shimmers upon her brow. Her eyes scan lambent lines and letters. Black font diffuses into a bright blur. Knight sighs and relaxes. Her arms drop to her sides. Sans blinking, she gazes into the glowing glass. She looks into the monitor, and it looks into her. A starry spiral enters her vision, and it winds into her mind. It purls her perception and psyche into a maelstrom. Deep into hypnosis, Misty Knight descends. Ringmaster's Nullatron technology has done its job.

Outside the psychedelia, Misty Knight sits still and stony staring bedazzled upon the computer screen. Spymaster sits beside her enthralled by his mesmerized mark. He is glad that Hammer technicians put the Nullatron's effect on a disk.

Spymaster need not even say anything to her. Simply, he types his words on his keyboard, and his commands appear on her screen. The precinct's intranet does his dirty work for him. No one hears anything nefarious. Security cameras capture nothing but two good guys serving and protecting New York.

"Pretend to work," he instructs. She complies. Seemingly, Knight reads data and works the mouse.

"I have instructions for you. Do you understand?" he asks. "Y."

"You will work here all night. You will not return to Nightwing Investigations until dawn, and you will not contact your dear Colleen Wing until dawn. Do you understand?" "Y."

"You will not contact Iron Fist to warn him of any danger this night. You will not help others to do so. You will only attempt contacting him upon hearing of his death. These attempts will seem futile. But, you will never accept that Danny is dead—no matter what others say. Do you understand?" "Y." Spymaster has to giggle. That post-mortem command really is a devilish touch.

The villain has a last edict, "Shanna the She-Devil is no longer your concern. She went home to the Savage Land. You cannot easily contact her there. She is completely safe and happy where she is right now. Do you understand?" "Y."

The master smiles slyly, "Touch my arm if you understand." Misty Knight's bionic right hand palms Nathan Lemon's [check name] fleshy left forearm. Coyly, he removes her cold hand and places it on her warm thigh. At Knight's shoulder, Spymaster listens to her breathe, and he ogles her throat. So easily, he could slit this sow's throat right now with his combat knife. He could behead her with pianowire. He could even strangle her slowly while she did not move an inch. He could completely have his way with her. However, security cameras watch Officer Smith and investigator Knight. And, Spymaster is a professional agent. Pavane wants her way with Knight later. Pavane wants her terrible revenge. Agent Spymaster is just facilitates.

At Officer Smith's shoulder, Sgt. King stares at the screen. Like Knight, King is unblinking. But, unlike Misty Knight, Master Khan is wholly unaffected by Ringmaster's silly device. He approaches a fool who is wholly unaware of Master Khan's presence. Upon impostor's pate, he places a ghostly hand, and the ghostly hand's fingers sink supernaturally through scoundrel's skull. Spymaster reacts not to the spectral intrusion. Spymaster does not even feel his façade being breached. Digit-deep in head, the warlock stirs brains as though stirring a witch's brew. He conjures. His buried talon feels and grasps. Khan comprehends, and his teeth grind viciously. Raptor's eyes shoot toward Pam and Ben at the desk. He knows what he must do.

An ethereal whisper interrupts the lovers' blithesome whispering at the desk. It is a chilling breeze in their ears and upon their faces. It tells them to look down the hallway. To their shock, Pam and Ben see an ominous costumed figure seated beside their colleague. Officer Smith is changed. A blue and gold mask hides his face, and a blue and gold commando uniform covers his person. Upon his chest, a dagger emblem indicates his violent and dangerous nature. If they knew supervillains better, the two cops would recognize Spymaster before them in full outfit. As is, they are very disturbed.

"Goddammit! I knew it! You're no cop. I don't know how changed your appearance so fast, Smith. But, you can freeze now, you sneaky sonofabitch!" Ben McMurty draws his snubnose.

Officer Smith views his reflection in the computer monitors. To his eyes, his disguise remains perfectly in place. Could the McMurtys possibly be seeing through his cover? Hidden in shadows, Khan cackles inaudibly at the four dupes before him. No one shall kill Iron Fist except Master Khan. Within Spymaster's little mind, the great master found the whole revenge plan. This plebian will pay for his insolence.

Pam approaches with crackling stungun in hand "Don't move." She produces cuffs. From a short distance, Ben keeps the intruder covered at gunpoint.

The invader is bemused, "What do you think that you're doing, Officer McMurty?"

"Apprehending the trespasser before me," Pam approaches.

Her husband Ben glances at Knight and then at the computer monitor, "Why is Misty Knight acting mesmerized and paralyzed? You aren't one of those hypno-perverts who hypnotizes women just to take advantage of them, are you?"

The master villain scoffs, "No. I am a much, much, much badder man. As you'll see."

The smirking, scoffing villain flings upon Pam the hot coffee that she brought him. Scalding slop splashes upon the sizzling stungun. In turn, the stungun sparks, pops, shorts in her hand. Pam spasms and seizes. Spymaster smashes her in the face breaking his mug upon her mug. Incensed, Ben bellows. He fires at close range into Smith's leg. The .38 caliber impact knocks Spymaster from his chair and onto the floor.

"Stay down, asshole!" the beat cop yells.

On the floor, Spymaster grits and grinds his teeth. He is not hurt. But, a gunshot is sure to bring more cops, and this place is a police station. The plan just got botched, and he is enraged.

Angry, Ben McMurty stomps toward a very dangerous man. Spymaster quickdraws his 9mm and fires pointblank into the veteran officer's chest. The cop flies backward, and his head bangs off of a steel file cabinet.

Smith hops up on an uninjured leg. A bullethole smokes on his thigh, "I'm wearing Kevlar beneath this cop uniform, grandpa. It's fairly new stuff. It's new stuff that helped retire you." He assumes the gray-haired cop to be quite dead. McMurty's left chest smokes a bit.

Shockingly, Ben McMurty staggers to his feet, "Well dummy, I'm wearing a bulletproof vest beneath _this_ cop uniform. A veteran knows to always wear one." Hot blood trickles from Ben's banged head.

Still semi-stunned, Pam staggers likewise to her feet. Blood drips from her broken nose beneath her busted glasses. She has also drawn her pistol, "And, a veteran NYPD archivist knows Ringmaster's Nullatron technology when she sees it. She knows also that it ain't gonna work with a bullet through it." Her revolver round goes through the monitor and kills the mesmerizing screen before catatonic Knight. Misty blinks but remains otherwise frozen.

To hell with it. All three cops are dying, and they are dying right fucken now. Pavane will just have to understand. Pam is first. First, Spymaster chops the handgun from Pam's hand. Then, with a sickening crack, he kicks her knee into the opposite direction. Wailing, she falls upon her back, and her lower leg flops down immediately after. Livid-faced, Ben McMurty raises his snubnose to Spymaster's mask. Spymaster raises his semi-auto into Ben's face.

"Drop it, grandpa. I'll kill you right in front of your darling wife," Spymaster stares down McMurty staring down him.

"Bullshit. I'll kill you right through the eyehole of your Kevlar mask," McMurty's hands aim the revolver at Spymaster's left eye.

What the hell is the grayhair talking about? "You're crazy. I don't need a Kevlar mask. I can shoot you twice before you ever fire one into my eyeball." Spymaster eyes McMurty's hands tight on the .38 special.

Then, the supervillain backs-up his boast. The first shot eliminates the handgun and hands pointed at him. A bullet blows open Ben's wrist. Armament and blood fall to the tiles. A half-attached hand hangs from exposed meat and bone. The second shot is for Ben's brain behind his furrowed forehead. Spymaster aims his piece and squeezes the trigger. But, sonofabitch! The gun jams! Nothing happens! Swiftly, snarling Smith re-prepares the weapon. Suddenly, he hears someone's steps fast approaching behind him. Sonofabitch! He needs to slaughter apace McMurty and then some other pig. Snarling, he re-squeezes the trigger. But, sonofabitch! The weapon jams again! In the shadows, Khan cackles and cackles.

Ben McMurty's fist stuns Spymaster. With a remaining good hand, the civil servant strikes the master criminal across the face. Spymaster is shocked at his inferior's amazing toughness. Before him, Ben is going into shock. He staggers and sprays crimson. The master raises his rod to pistolwhip a vulnerable subordinate. Then, a shotgun butt cracks the cruel criminal across the cheek instead. Smith's teeth pelt McMurty's uniform. Ben smiles. Rafael Scarfe has returned. From behind, he hit vulnerable villain about to hit vulnerable hero. With trembling fingers, that hero reaches for the cuffs on his belt. He is going to apprehend this scumbag. Then, abruptly, Ben collapses. He passes-out beside his wife Pam upon the floor.

With amazing toughness, Spymaster is still on his feet. He staggers. Scarfe levels the twelve gauge into Smith's face. The captain commands the maniac cop before him, "Don't move. Drop your weapon. I didn't fire while approaching you. I could have hit Misty or Ben. But now, my barrel is right in your goddam puss. And, I will blow that goddam puss apart—if you don't drop your weapon."

Smirking Smith drops his sidearm into its holster. Red dribble drips from his jaw. Scarfe is irritated, "Drop the weapon on the ground!"

"No. But, I'll give up," smirking Smith raises his palms in surrender. Winking, he locks his fingers behind his head and steps right up to the lethal muzzle.

"What are you? A wiseguy?" Scarfe considers downing the perp. The policeman does not have this situation under control.

"No, I'm not a wiseguy. But, you are a dumb cop," the intelligence agent answers, "Let me teach you something, detective." As Scarfe reacts, the player punts the pump gun high. Pellets blast ceiling plaster and harsh dust clouds the air. Temporarily, Scarfe is blind. In the dustcloud, Spymaster tornadokicks Scarfe right off of his feet. The shotgun flies away. As the dust settles, Scarfe sees that Smith has redrawn his 9 mm.

The master lectures, "Let me remind you of something, cop. When arresting an armed man, you disarm him first. Instead, you smashed me in the fucken teeth. Now, I still have my gun. And, I'm going to use that gun to shoot you in the face a couple times before putting one in your temple. You know, I have to wonder if you're a real cop."

Spymaster tastes bitter blood in his mouth. Some splats on the punk at his feet. Scarfe stares up at the livid psycho staring down at him. The lawman has a sidearm on his hip, but he cannot hope to draw it in time. He sees a finger begin to pressure the semi-auto's trigger. Cap. Rafael Scarfe is going to die.

Then, he doesn't. A mighty right hand clamps criminal forearm. An angry automated arm yanks jerk into the computer counter with powerful force. Spymaster's hand shatters upon the table edge, and he is disarmed. From ballooning appendage, he drops his weapon. Great grip crunches his radius and ulna with a pop and a crack. Finally, Spymaster screams this evening after neither Shanna nor the cops could make him do so. Knight's bionic arm slams him into the countertop again, and Spymaster feels perhaps his back give out. Her glare fixates upon him angrily while he fights futilely her punishing grip. She stands up, and her left knuckles fly forward. Fist into his bloody mouth. Fist into his eye. Fist into his nose. Fist into his cheek. Fist into his nose again. Backhand across his ugly face. With an ominous cock, Knight draws her .44 and places it between Spymaster's breasts. The hand cannon discharges into his chest. Beneath body armor, that'll leave a wicked bruise. Her vise releases. On wobbly legs, Spymaster thinks that he soon passes out. Out of nowhere, Rafael Scarfe uppercuts him. And, Spymaster is out. He flops upon the dirty, bloodied floor, and his busted arm follows immediately after.

Other police arrive from upstairs. Scarfe's supervisor Denny (see _Power Man and Iron Fist _#122) takes charge. "Let's get medical care for Pam and Ben right away," Denny commands, "We'll get EMS for this asshole too—eventually. I think that we need to interrogate him first."

Rafael Scarfe is a good man, and he frowns. But, he is angry. And, he knows how things work in the NYPD sometimes. He goes toward the phone at Pam's desk. He will get the McMurtys some care. Smith will just have to suffer an unfortunate fate for awhile.

Misty Knight is a hero. "I don't want this loser tortured. Even if he did have the balls to attack police in a police station."

"Well maybe, we'll have to remove his balls," Denny shrugs and smiles, "What do you think of that, tough guy?" The superior officer kicks the downed offender several times.

Knight states coldly, "I will get a costumed vigilante or two in here if need be. Or, I can take you down myself, Denny."

"Misty, come here," Pam murmurs from the floor. Misty walks over and kneels down. She leans in to hear her hurt colleague's whimpering whisper.

Knight nods, "You have a good idea, Pam. Let us see what Smith had on his computer screen. It is still up." The investigator reads. Suddenly, her conscious mind recalls receiving certain commands under hypnosis. She frowns. Shanna, Danny, and Colleen are all in immediate danger tonight. She needs to warn and to help them. Her partner Colleen is the first concern. The Daughter of the Dragon will rush to her sister first.

"I guess you get your alone time with the suspect, Denny," Knight is not pleased to announce, "However, nothing had better happen. Or, I'll be—around."

"I'll be around too, Misty," Scarfe has returned from using the phone. The former friend gives the ex-cop a reassuring pat on the arm. Misty Knight departs to kick some ass. Once she leaves, Denny gives Rafael a look. Torn, the captain frowns. Nervously, he lights a cigarette to mellow his nerves. His cheaters look over a prone, bloody, battered human being looking at him. Nathan Lemon, Spymaster, sees a cold face and a burning light step toward him.

Later, light burns into Spymaster's bloody, sore eyes. It shines upon his blood-crusted face. He is handcuffed, both hand and foot, to a gurney. This gurney stands in an infirmary in the 12th Precinct's basement. The room is cold, and the gurney is chilling. Nathan Lemon lies in his skivvies wearing neither weapons nor armor nor clothing. Only his naked skin and his discolored injuries are manifest. Outside the door, he knows that Denny stands guard.

"You can't do this," Spymaster tells the sinister figure to his left.

"You have not dealt with the NYPD much, have you?" the deviant officer gazes upon metal instruments reflecting into his dark face, "We're going to teach you a lesson. I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"You had better let me loose right fucken now! Otherwise, I'll teach you a lesson. You don't know who I am," the semi-naked man threatens.

Tyrone King turns around, "You are Spymaster, Nathan."

Surprised, Nathan replies, "Yeah, I am the Spymaster. I know a bunch of bad-asses, human tanks, and crazies who could raze this entire police station and who would splatter you all over the walls."

"You know Taskmaster, for you are his pupil, and you know Justin Hammer and his armored flunkies, and you know Pavane and her gang of losers and degenerates. Yes, I know all of these things that you know," King covers the bad-asses, human tanks, and crazies of whom Spymaster speaks.

The intelligence agent is speechless. His re-arranged face has a puzzled look. Then, he finds a basic query to ask, "Who are you?"

"I am the man who, one day, will kill Iron Fist, not you," King wags a finger, "I am called Master Khan." Audaciously, Tyrone King transmogrifies into Master Khan before amazed Spymaster. The sorcerer stands in flowing purple robes and blue rebato.

"You're a master con alright. You're a disguised bad guy operating in a cop shop. That's kinda friggin' funny actually," Spymaster manages a chuckle out of fat lips.

Khan places a blade upon Lemon's abdomen, "You will now stop laughing and will soon start screaming. I shall teach you a lesson about invading my territory and plans. I shall send Pavane a warning when she sees what things that I have done to you."

The thug prepares to be brave. He has been trained to withstand torture. But then, he hears footsteps outside the infirmary's door. They echo in the basement corridor. Someone says something to Denny standing guard. With destroyed face, Spymaster grins. Good ol' Justin Hammer. Khan becomes King once more. The police sergeant approaches the door. He glances back at his prisoner and then looks at the door. He seems to be considering his next nefarious move.


	13. Chapter 13: Twisted

**Chapter 13**: Twisted

Ebenezer Laughton gazes upon glinting metal instruments reflecting upon his craggy face. Beneath buzzing fluorescent buzz, Ebenezer Laughton breathes excitedly, and he sneers and shudders aroused. Behind him in Nightwing's dojo, Colleen Wing hangs prepared for her mutilation and torture.

Semi-conscious, Wing floats in a haze. Her bleeding head and whole body aches. Her limbs are cold with cut circulation, yet they burn with pain. Her sore eyes assess her racked flesh. Looking up and down, she finds her naked form stretched taut and hard between two ropes. Above, her arms are pitoned to the ceiling. Below, piton and rope touch her feet to the floor—nearly. In-between, her white panties are the only color besides her pasty skin. Frigid sweat dribbles down chilled skin and drips off bare breast.

Within her chest, Colleen Wing feels great fear that she must control greatly. Resolutely, the samurai controls her breathing. The woman warrior prepares to face her adversary. She studies his back hunched over his baleful devices. Upon his back, his hessian hood hangs. Eyeless, it is the soulless face of a mercenary. Empty, it is the mask of a hollow man. Inverted, it is the visage of a twisted freak. Before him, Scarecrow strokes his tools of torture. Upon a table lie Scarecrow's beloved butcher knife, a harvester's sickle, a pliers, a cattle prod, an ax, and a whip. The samurai controls her breathing and her heartbeat and her fear. The twisted man turns. He is ready. She is ready. She stares him down. He glares up at her. He shudders and smirks. Stoic, she stays stony still suspended. Like steel, Wing's stare stabs through his sockets. Laughton turns serious. He turns away. His mask covers his sweaty face. It is a burlap veil. Shaking, Scarecrow pulls the mask's cord tight and chokes himself for punishment and comfort. Heavy workboots stomp toward Colleen Wing.

"The fearful thing rises from within me. The fear rises inside you. They will meet tonight in this room. I will deliver the fear from your womb," Scarecrow has his butcher knife. He kneels low before the alabaster suspended object. This whore hero hurt Pavane. This whore hero is lily-white—on the outside—except for the scarlet upon her brow and the oyster upon her loins. But—within—she is fearful and dark. And, by his blade's shining light, Scarecrow will expose the darkness within her guts, within her womb, within her skin. He will shuck her skin and present her whorish ruby flesh to the dark night.

Bristly burlap strokes her footsole. Then, it scrapes her calf. Then, it scrapes her thigh. Then, ravenous eyes fix upon her belly.

"Aaaaah!" Scarecrow howls. Teeth tear into soft bellyflesh. Scarecrow slurps blood from the shallow wound. Wing stifles an angry and anguished scream.

Jaws clamped, Scarecrow shakes his head wildly side-to-side. Her flesh tears. He gnaws instead of spits. Standing erect, Scarecrow looks her in the face, and he swallows hard. Blood upon his mouth, sanguinity in his eyes, he utters, "I will bring out the fearful thing from inside you. I will bring out the fearful thing inside you."

"Fuck you" is the only clever comeback that the nude, bleeding woman can summon.

A burlapped glove backhands her across the cheek. Its partner bashes her in the ribs. Wing gasps and shudders. She considers how long that he can dally with her hung like a warm carcass. Colleen Wing musters her composure. The samurai musters her inner warrior spirit. She must gather her inner energy as Daniel Rand, Iron Fist, does. Her naked self must become as a thing of iron.

Scarecrow handles pliers. Wing inhales and exhales. His gaze handles her nude, suspended form. She defiantly declares again, "Fuck you!"

Scarecrow clacks the pliers and grinds his teeth. He approaches.

"You're an idiot," Colleen Wing declares further, "Do you know what Misty Knight and Daniel Rand will do to you? Have you ever seen an animal neutered? That's what Misty will do to you—with her machine hand."

"Your Knight is not coming," the pliers rap the bad bitch on the nose, "Nor is Danny. Nor is your new friend Shanna the She-Devil. You have only fear and me for company at your slow death." The madman clicks the pliers open and shut methodically.

The woman warrior plans her move. A strategy in-mind, she tenses her anguished muscles. Wing interrogates her torturer, "Are you going to use those pliers in my slow death?"

"Yes, to tear off your eyelids, extract all of your teeth, and rip-out your tongue," Scarecrow juts the closed pliers toward Wing's eyeball, "You won't ask any more questions once I rip-out your tongue! You'll still scream just fine though."

She asks another question, "Will you use the whip over there? Pavane might expect you to. She would use it were she here." Subtly, the hung woman pulls on the ropes to the floor and the ceiling. Dust falls from the piton in the ceiling.

"Perhaps I shall whip you. Perhaps not. By whatever tool, we have all night to remove your skin bit by bit," Ebenezer notices dust drizzle from above. Briefly, he studies the ceiling piton. Then, he considers his captive.

"Did Pavane flog-off Montenegro's skin when she took his equipment?" the dame detective deduces the rope and piton's origin, "Or, did Nightwing's old foe provide it willingly? Like Pavane, he would want horrible revenge on Iron Fist and friends."

Excitedly, Scarecrow kisses Wing's cheek. He admires the bound, bloodied babe's aptitude. He hisses in her ear, "Pavane'sss whip evissscerated him instantly. He died more quickly than you will." His tongue whips into her ear. The dojo's wooden floor creaks as her legs jerk up a little.

"You may hug me if you wish," Wing tries not to retch. She has a plan. She knows that the former Umberto the Uncanny is a contortionist.

"Okay, one embrace before I begin brutally butchering you," the maniac chuckles. He goes behind her. In an instant, his serpentine arms wrap her neck and constrict about her throat. Freakishly, his hands are flush upon her back, and his harsh fingers dig into her flesh. Scarecrow plants his boots and pulls ferociously. He attempts to bend backwards. He attempts to snap her head right off. Wing stiffens and lets him pull. Scarecrow's insane strength does work for her. The fast pitons withdraw a bit from the ceiling and floor, thanks to Scarecrow's pulling.

The animal releases his prey for a moment. Purple-faced, Wing gulps air into her lungs and summons inner strength. Abruptly, Scarecrow pounces upon her from behind. His full weight crashes upon her back. Upon her hips, his legs lock like ursine limbs, and they threaten to crush the bones upon which they have jumped. At her knew, his knees bend grotesquely back against her own, and they threaten to snap ligaments. Colleen Wing is in agony. Breaking, her body and spirit threaten to collapse. Yet, her mind and spirit keep enduring and fighting. She breathes in and out. Particles patter from the ceiling.

Over her windpipe, the contortionist's right arm wraps, and she can no longer breathe. Over her breasts, his limber left arm lashes, and it squeezes precious air from her chest. The samurai struggles mightily. She thrashes. Wing rattles her ropes, and ceiling falls bit by bit. Then, suddenly and sadistically, Scarecrow pulls back swiftly his cinched, coarse tentacles. His burlapped appendages abrade and burn her throat and breast wickedly as they withdraw.

In anguish, Wing sneers angrily. She uses her rage. Focusing, she pulls hard, very hard, upward and downward. Above and below, securing surfaces creak and crack and give a little. The subtle sounds give Colleen hope. Then, Scarecrow takes away momentarily her focus and her hope. The baboon upon her back seizes her auburn, blood-stained tresses and pulls brutally. He pulls her head to the side. Then, primevally, the evil animal clamps his wide maw upon her shoulder. For the second time, his growling, rapacious rictus rips a hunk of Colleen Wing from her hanging carcass. Hot blood flows freely down her back. Her attacker dismounts her. He grinds and gnashes the raw meat in his mouth while strolling to the torture instrument table. For the second time tonight, Scarecrow swallows a sick snack.

The animal speaks, "You're tasty. Let's get to butchering you." The woman cannot wait to kill him.

"So, cow, should I hit you with the cattle prod?" the agrarian accurser approaches the table, "Should I prolong your agony by stunning you and reviving you repeatedly?"

"I'm going to kill you soon," his captive informs him.

Scarecrow swishes a sickle in the air, "No. Soon, I'm going to harvest your head and reap your womb. But first, I'm going to shuck your skin. This razor-sharp sickle ought to do mighty nicely." Within Wing's bare skin is a very resolved warrior. She swears to her proud ancestors that she will get her keen katana and behead and eviscerate and skin this twisted, little monkey of a man.

"But, who am I ribbing?" Scarecrow smiles crookedly, "You know my preferred tool. A butcher knife is best for butchering. I'm going to stick my favorite tool right in you and rip you right open. The fearful thing will fall right upon the floor, and it will glisten gloriously right before your dying eyes."

"Generally, a person's guts represents her courage, not her fearful thing, you dumbass. Besides, I have no fearful thing within me. Come cut me and try to find it," Wing dares correct and challenge her captor.

Scarecrow goes stolid and silent. Steel stands erect in his fist. He strides toward her. Wing sees the seven-inch butcher knife about to come. Pulled and strained muscles painfully pull and strain her bonds. Ropes creak loudly. Floor cracks loudly. The madman raises the blade. May her ancestors grant her fortitude and strength. The madman swings the blade. Steel slashes Colleen Wing's flesh. She feels anguish and anger. Fury fills her. Like a shot, the floorpiton pops finally free. Colleen Wing is finally free!

Crazed Scarecrow takes no notice. Grimacing, he prepares to slam his full seven inches into her middle. He lunges. With both legs, Wing punts the knife from Laughton's hand. His weapon leaves him. Shocked, the lithesome lunatic freezes. In one fluid motion, Wing kicks both feet into his rigid gut and brings him to his knees. While he groans and kneels, she swings her legs over his head. Snarling, she squeezes his neck and airway until his eyes bulge and his tongue hangs. Desperately, the gasping hellion twists in her stocks. By his craft, the contortionist escapes.

Then, Wing escapes too. With incredible strength, the enraged Wing snaps the ropes from her hands, and her damaged form falls upon the dirty, gory ground. She snarls. She tears at the knot around her ankles.

Aghast, the ghoul shambles for a weapon, "I have a hatchet! I'll cut your legs goddam off! You won't leglock or kick me again. I'll cut your head goddam off! I'll munch your headcheese. I'll hew the fearful thing from your bosom and suckle upon it!"

"Shut up!" Wing stands unhobbled, "The only dead meat in this room is you." In each hand, she holds a piton. From her avenging right hand, Wing hurls a footlong spike at Scarecrow's back. It buzzes end-over-end. He never sees it coming. The aspiring murderer reaches for an ax—just as the [spike] reaches him. The piton falls through his hand and into the table.

"Aaaaagh!" Scarecrow's blood spatters and drips. Before his skewered hand, he sees other weapons: pliers, prod, sickle, whip. He envisions killing and skinning this bitch yet. The pliers should free him from the table.

"Look at me!" the bitch barks behind him. Scarecrow wheels and looks. His sight catches the incoming missile. Then, he catches it right in the eye. Ichor and eyejuice squirt.

Again, the protean freezes. The cold killer shivers with pain. Desperately, he composes himself. His free hand seizes the pliers. The cruel tool wriggles the smarting shaft tenaciously, and the rod rips and reams, raining red. But, the nail does not come loose. The piton traps Scarecrow much as it held Wing this horrible evening. Unbalanced with fury and fatigue, Wing staggers toward trapped Scarecrow wincing and whimpering at the stake. The heroine will free him. She snatches the hatchet from the table. The cleaver falls on his wrist and through his wrist.

The axhead broadsides the brute across the teeth, "Get away from the table." Wing knocks the animal on his ass. He sees his right hand upon the table. He sees his front teeth upon the table. He sees that she is going to kill him. With his one good eye, he sees the hatchet in her right hand. With psychotic determination, Scarecrow withdraws the dart from his destroyed right orb. Half of his mask stick grossly to his face. Shaky, Scarecrow threatens Wing with the spike. She is a naked, bloody, exhausted woman before him. Her breath is ragged, and she appears ready to pass-out. His breath rattles with glee.

Wing swings the battleaxe in her right hand. Scarecrow bends easily backwards to avoid it. His spine cracks as he snaps monstrously upright. For a millisecond, Scarecrow grins maniacally with hubris. Then, on his blindside, a left hand delivers an electric prod into his chest. Umberto the Uncanny undulates, drools, locks. He is paralyzed, and he drops hard to the ground.

"Contort away from that, you freak!" Wing taunts, "You know, farm fiend, I've decided. You're more like a pig than a scarecrow. I should butcher you like a pig. At the abattoir, the butchers first stun the animal. Like I just did you. Sometimes, they shove a prod right up the animal's ass. Then, they hang him up like you did me. They hang him upside down. That way, the pig can see his lifeblood dump when a human being slits his throat. And, all the while, a person can smell how the little pig is just a fearful thing."

Scarecrow's remaining hand forms a fist of rage. Then, Colleen Wing beheads Ebenezer Laughton. He sees his last lifeblood pump from his headless body. Then, he dies.

Colleen Wing falls over. She hurts from limbs to core. Her blood flows from her. Her blood sticks beneath her. She sighs. She sucks air. She barely hears the office door open, and she barely hears boots enter. Her eyes roll back. And, warrior Wing passes out.

"Sweet Christmas!" a familiar voice ejaculates a late friend's catchphrase of shock.


	14. Chapter 14: Iron in the Blood

**Chapter 14**: **Iron in the Blood**

Colleen Wing tries to breathe gingerly. She hurts too much for deep breaths. Her abused muscles ache, and her lacerated flesh burns. Her throat hurts from being strangled, twice, this evening. Her eyes ache. She looks at her hands, and they shake. She looks at the sleeves of the yellow jumpsuit covering her person after her naked torture session. Beneath her bottom is a comfy purple couch, and beside her on the couch is a blonde woman in office attire. Receptionist Penny O'Neal looks near tears, but the assistant keeps it together for now.

This night, Ms. O'Neal received a phonecall that her employer Nightwing Restorations needed her after hours. And, the intrepid young woman rushed to the office. She loves aiding the Daughters of the Dragon in their adventures (_Marvel Comics Presents _#80). However, the uneasy office girl reconsiders now her employment. She has seen some real shit in this office tonight, and she is likely another departure in a long line of Nightwing secretaries (see _Daughters of the Dragon _#1). Penny looks into Colleen's wearied eyes, and she feels anguish for her employers. What they must go through day after day and night after night. It's just overkill.

Warrior Wing looks away from somber O'Neal. The samurai does not want pity. Pity disturbs a warrior's focus. Colleen Wing looks at the harder woman before her instead. Shanna the She-Devil stands stalwart and stately in front of the shocked and the sheepish. As always, the jungle queen is regal in her natural form. She wears but a borrowed tanktop—sans bra—and shorts, yet the hard huntress is a goddess in the flesh in Wing's eyes. Shanna packs shut a first aid kit on a coffeetable. Some bloody gauze and instruments rest upon the nice table's surface. Penny cannot even look at them. She has seen them enough when the materials were working on poor Wing.

"This is a nice med-kit," Shanna observes, "It helps a trained veterinarian greatly when she patches a human patient."

"Thank you. It is a good kit. Misty and I know that we need a good one around here," Colleen murmurs, "We cannot always go to the hospital."

"You should go to the hospital," Penny pleads.

"We can't. We won't" the savage queen corrects the help, "Iron Fist is in danger tonight, so we fighting women need to leave right away. You need to be Colleen's nurse, Penny. Misty and I cannot take her into a slow-moving Manhattan ER. Misty and I cannot summon EMS and police to this office right now. They would have too many questions about Scarecrow's dead body in the next room."

"Yeah, justifiable homicide investigations can get tricky. I know. I used to be a cop," Misty Knight speaks from the desk to the couch's left, "Besides, we fighting women want revenge on Colleen's assailants, and we want it as soon as possible. I wouldn't mind doing to Pavane and Skullcrusher what I did to Officer Smith."

"Thank you for that, by the way. As I told everyone already, Officer Smith knocked me out and dared strip me," Shanna picks up a torn fur outfit from the table, and she begins sewing it back together, "Misty reports that the cops have him and are being kind of rough with him. My inner brute approves." Like an ape-woman, the She-Devil hops upon the table and squats over her work.

O'Neal is a little sickened by this talk of torture. She is a little sickened by the decapitated corpse in the next room. In the dojo, some body lies beneath a blood-stained aquamarine drape. Misty Knight simply pulled down an office curtain and threw it over Ebenezer Laughton. Beside the body, under the sheet, rests a human head. These are dangerous women with whom Penny associates, and Penny feels sorry for this Pavane woman of whom they speak. Apparently, they killed this Pavane woman once, and they are about to again.

O'Neal sees Wing stretch and lean toward the coffee table. The heroine's teeth grit and grind in pain. There is a bottled water. The nurse reaches for it, but her mistress waves her off. Wing gets the bottle and slurps its contents.

"Water is good for you," Shanna encourages, "It will give you your strength back little by little."

"I need my strength back now. I'm coming with you girls," Colleen declares in her mind.

She closes her eyes and concentrates. She must become like a thing of iron that feels neither pain nor fatigue. Eyes closed, Wing listens to Knight warn Rand.

Knight tells the phone upon her desk, "Pavane is alive, which we did not expect. She was fried to a crisp the last time that we saw her. And, she brings friends just like she brought last time when she kidnapped and killed Aguila. She plans to kill you—tonight in fact."

Over the speaker phone, Rand sounds surprised, "Pavane is alive? How is that possible? Do her helpers just help push her around in a wheelchair? Do not tell me that she has a re-assembled, re-animated Crossbow as her valet."

Knight chuckles during these grim times, "Nah, I haven't heard anything about a zombie Crossbow. Apparently, Aguila blew-up and splattered his ass and guts permanently. Instead, Pavane has Hong Kongese criminal Skullcrusher and two other henchmen hounding us in New York. From somewhere, she has gotten new skin that shapeshifts. Pavane is whole and beautiful again. And, the femme fatale is now a shapeshifter. She must feel that her dreams have come true. She has a great patron aiding her revenge mission."

"I know Skullcrusher. He is famously a nobody," Iron Fist comments, "Pavane and he worked together at one time. Both wanted to kill Shang-Chi, MI-6's Master of Kung-Fu, for their master the Cat. They were unsuccessful. Skullcrusher suffered especial humiliation at the deadly hands and feet of Shang-Chi. We elite martial artists are a select circle, and we gossip through the grapevine."

Knight notes, "Well, as a master martial artist, you know one thing. Don't ever underestimate your opponents. Iron Fist has nearly permanently fallen to many nobodies: from the chucklehead Chaka Khan to the deceptively deadly Captain Hero. Pavane and Skullcrusher took down Colleen this evening, and they left her in a bad way. They could do the same to you. Although, Colleen will be okay."

"Easy for you to say," Wing utters beneath furrowed brow.

"Any dogs can be deadly in a pack," the immortal Iron Fist elucidates, "You mentioned that bitch Pavane's pack has two other members. Who are they?"

"One is Scarecrow. Or rather, one was Scarecrow," Knight states.

"Is he incapacitated?" the hero for hire asks optimistically.

"He's dead. Colleen killed him."

"Hmph. That would count as incapacitated then," Rand understates, "If Colleen killed him, this situation—which might lead to the death of Iron Fist—is clearly serious. Who else did Pavane bring? Is Montenegro back?"

"No, he is also dead. Scarecrow said so while torturing our poor girl," Knight states.

"Sweet Christmas," Iron Fist quotes the late Power Man, also dead.

Wing laughs painfully, "That's what Misty said when she discovered me bloody on the floor. I half-wished that my old lover and buddy Luke Cage had returned. But, I was glad that it was Misty. She has been a long-time and close friend."

Danny's voice takes a grave tone, "Killing Montenegro is no small feat. Luke and I never defeated him [see _Power Man and Iron Fist _#71 & 80]. You ladies and I could not do so when retrieving Aguila."

"I remember. You don't need to tell me. Montenegro hanged me and left me for dead," Knight recalls, "But, he must be dead now. Pavane and her men had Monte's piton gun with them when invading Nightwing Investigations. The Man from the Black Mountain would have only surrendered his favorite toy over his dead body."

"Impressive," Iron Fist is stoic and focused, "Who is Pavane's fourth team member? Perhaps, he is someone capable of taking out Montenegro for her."

"Officer Smith is pretty good. I hate to admit it," Shanna removes her top and shorts and stands nude, and unabashed, before her colleagues. She slips on her mended bikini.

"Who is Officer Smith?" the hero asks the heroines. On unsteady limbs, Colleen Wing rises painfully and stiffly, leaning upon the couch. She eyes the office's desk. Penny is unsure whether to sit Wing back down or to help her walk. Shanna is completing dressing. She mouths "help her" to the discomfited assistant. One strong heroine understands another.

Detective Knight discusses Officer Smith, "Officer Smith is a disguised super-agent of some sort. Shanna encountered him first tonight. As she mentioned, he proved a capable foe. Then, the police impersonator brazenly entered the 12th Precinct and attempted to eliminate me for the night. He also maimed two police officers. In both battles, he used advanced technology. Many criminal masterminds could have outfitted him. Our world has no shortage."

Iron Fist suggests, "Smith could work for either Hammerhead or the Headmen. Like Pavane, each holds a grudge against Heroes for Hire. And, each has the advanced technology to provide Pavane new, shapeshifting skin. Mad industrialist John Lumus is another usual suspect. I doubt that the pesky organization SMILE gave her a new, happy face. They are actually law enforcement."

Knight furthers speculation, "At the precinct, Officer Smith used something much like Ringmaster's Nullatron. Perhaps, the Circus of Crime loaned Smith Ringmaster's hat and Pavane Tarrax the Tamer's whip, and Skullcrusher Fire-Eater's hot apparel. At the zoo, Smith used an electrified net similar to what Spymaster uses. And, he wore body-armor and shot handguns very well like Spymaster."

"He does sound like a spymaster of some sort," Rand notes.

"Whoever he is, Smith is in deep trouble, and we might need to rescue him after saving you," Knight explains, "He hurt two police officers and invaded a police station. Cap. Denny O'Shaughnessy was pissed. I got the impression that O'Shaughnessy might violate Smith's civil rights—amongst other things."

"Hmph. So, Officer Smith might also be incapacitated," Danny notes, "Denny has always had two sides. One moment, he chastises Sgt. Tyrone King for excessive force on armed robbers [see _Power Man and Iron Fist _#122]. The next moment, he tells Power Man to apprehend cop-killer Glowworm by any means necessary [see_ Power Man and Iron Fist _#123]. Perhaps, we should send Matt Murdock over to the jail to make sure Pavane's man is alright."

"Who in the hell is Murdock to dare imitate goons?" Knight wonders sarcastically, "Besides, I ain't tracking down a lawyer after hours. I have only so much damn time to save you."

Rand chuckles, "Alright, what else do I need to know before my guests arrive?"

Misty communicates, "Pavane is likely wearing a Colleen Wing disguise. The degenerate and her associates seem to have a thing for stripping us this evening. For example, Officer Smith took Shanna's clothes and bound her in them before pursuing me. Pavane took Colleen's robe, pants, slippers, and sword before pursuing you."

Iron Fist's voice is a little angry, "I hope that Pavane thinks herself clever when she arrives in a disguise that I see right through. She deserves to be humiliated just as much as she has humiliated my friends. I am the Living Weapon. And, I shall whip away her façade and excoriate her ego."

"Well, ah, good luck. The proud peacock sounds plucked. Shanna and I will be there soon," Knight concludes the phonecall. "Goodbye. Thanks for calling" is heard. At Misty's elbow, Colleen leans on the desk and opens a drawer. She removes two bottles, one large and one small.

Penny frowns, "Saki and codeine are not such a bright combination. You could die this evening after all."

"I only quaff alcohol and opiate now so that I drink blood and brains from Skullcrusher's skull shortly," Colleen quips.

"Nice," Penny frowns.

Knight lays a gentle hand upon Wing, "Honey, you might need to sit this one out. Just sit with Penny while we two girls get back at the bad guys for you."

"You already did good this evening. You beheaded Scarecrow," Shanna walks toward the dojo. She illuminates the adjacent room and enters it.

Wing plops down on the couch. Pills and drink numb her body and mind. Groggily, she looks at Shanna in the next room. The She-Devil removes a weapon hanging on the wall.

"Colleen, may I borrow this?" Shanna requests, "I'll use it a vengeance upon our foes."

A slack face assents, "You're an animal." The face tries not to drool.

Knight guffaws, "Shanna kinda fucken is. Guess what she told me, Colleen. After escaping that car trunk, she sprinted through Central Park buck-ass naked. She didn't even borrow the car's upholstery. She was just the stitchless strawberry-blonde streaker of Sheep's Meadow, the garmentless galloper of the green, the zipperless zipper, the bouncing beauty, the moving mooner, the buck-naked doe, the. . . . ."

"I am comfortable in my own skin," Shanna grins, "I could grin and bear it while I grinned and bared it. Besides, this is New York City. A naked redhead does not attract that much attention running through the park and the streets."

"These women are too uninhibited" thinks Penny to herself. She shakes her head. Beside O'Neal, Wing's eyes roll. Their gaze falls to the floor upon which Shanna stands. Upon that floor, Scarecrow lies dead. And, Colleen has an idea. She sits drinking and thinking. She thinks that Misty Knight and Shanna Plunder depart soon. Once they do, she will. . . . . ya know, she'll get off the couch. . . . .she'll stand up once she's done getting high. . . . . then, she'll do wicked smart stuff. . . . .big things, man, big wicked things. . . . . This saki is good. She feels pretty pain-free and, like. . . loose. Knight loads her .44 and opens the door. Shanna trots and prances into the hallway. The wild woman seems excited to hunt. Penny wishes that she herself were elsewhere.

Elsewhere, Daniel Rand sits at a desk in the Rand-Meachum building. He is not at the building's top floor, the 40th. Rather, he has chosen an office on a much lower level. It has a wide open conference room abutting it. It has a warehouse just outside the window. The warrior has chosen his location. Beneath his business suit, he wears his Iron Fist colors, and he is ready to fight.

Moments earlier, Daniel Rand called Martina Tereshkova, the building's security director (see _Marvel Comics Presents _#125-126). He said, "Hey, Martina, it's Mr. Rand. Say, I am expecting two guests any moment now. They are assassins come here to kill me. Please let them through. I shall handle their visit in the office off of the fourth-floor conference room. You need not give them specific directions. Both think that they are pretty goddamed smart, so let the two figure-out where I am. Being sooooo goddamed smart, one of them is disguised as Colleen Wing. The other is wearing something like an S&M outfit or a b-movie barbarian costume. What's that? . . . . . You may assist me once they are here in the office. Otherwise, I have helpers on the way. Misty Knight and Shanna the She-Devil are arriving soon to assist. And, you might encounter another person appearing to be Colleen Wing. . . . . Alright, thank you. Bye-bye."

Soon, the cagey champion hears two expected enemies in the hallway. They try to be quiet. But, the martial arts master swears that he both hears and sees their handsignals. Skullcrusher remains in the hallway, for Skullcrusher is an obvious threat. Pavane will try to be sneaky. She will try to sneak-up like a panther in woman's clothing. Pavane's slippers enter the reception area outside the office. Iron Fist hears their soft scrape. Chairman Rand pretends to write a memo at his desk. His head is down as though he were unaware and defenseless. This foolish foe has entered the dragon's lair, and he wishes her to stupidly stride right up to him. The night predator lets herself through the swinging door at the reception desk. She pads the short length of hallway to the head's office.

Daniel Rand looks up from his desk. Iron Fist sees Pavane. Pavane sees Iron Fist. He beckons her, "Hello, Colleen." She approaches him. Let's settle this.


	15. Chapter 15: Amuck

**Chapter 15**: **Amuck**

"Unbelievable. Un-freaking-believable," Iron Fist thinks within his head covered by his hands as he lies prone upon the floor. Just above him, automatic weapon fire sprays in repeated arcs. All around him, bits of glass and plaster rain and pelt. Furiously, he grinds his teeth. His narrowed eyes look up at the low figure across from him. Crouched down, Pavane hisses and glares back at Iron Fist through the grit and dust-up. She is bloodied and battered, and the hero nearly has her out. But, the champion cannot finish his foe in this fight, for she and he had to hit the deck when those two idiots started shooting up the place. And unbelievably, those two idiots are supposed to be Iron Fist's allies. This fight could have been one Living Weapon against two idiots who have come to kill him. But no. Somehow, someway, this battle has now seven combatants: Iron Fist, Pavane, Skullcrusher (who might be dead now), and four assholes. To hell with it! The ol' Kung Fu Killer has a plan.

Iron Fist lowcrawls to Pavane. The barraging bullets stop for a few seconds. Furiously, she shakes a long glass shard in his face. His fist punches through the shiv, shattering it. His hand grabs her hair. And, he bounces her face repeatedly off the carpet. Pavane is a little dazed. The gunfire could restart at any time. He grabs her armpits and stands them both up before the office's bullet-ridden window. To her shock, he hugs her tight. Fiercely, she bites him. To her utter surprise, Iron Fist jumps them both right through the glass and into the open air twenty feet above firmament.

"I hope that bozo with the machete is not still right outside the window," Iron Fist thinks as he crashes through. But, the bozo is. Iron Fist sees the white-faced geezer hurl a lariat at the plummeting pair. The hero must now worry about another foe. This life-and-death situation started out so much more simply.

Fifteen minutes earlier. Daniel Rand greets ersatz Colleen Wing into this office. Rand understands that Wing is actually Pavane, with newly-acquired shapeshifting abilities. Misty Knight told him so on the phone. Pavane is here to kill him, and she brings flunky Skullcrusher with her to do so. Skullcrusher is not in Rand's office. The stooge waits in the reception area outside. The stooge stupidly allows the chains in his hands and on his body to jangle slightly. The hero hears him. Especially because ersatz Wing stands silently staring with stabbing eyes.

Danny breaks the silence, "So, Colleen, I have been expecting you."

Suddenly, the skinwalker feels uncomfortable in her own skin. Surely, he does not expect her. Surely, he steps into her trap and not she into his. She must have her revenge. After much machination, she stands before this pig of a man. In fairness, she must slash his throat and spill his entrails. Wing's keen katana sits upon her hip for this purpose. Blacklash's steely whip hangs beneath Wing's robe for this purpose. Pavane must have the death of Iron Fist. She locks her angry eyes upon him.

To her unease, Danny looks her right back in the eye. He is confident and controlled. Like she, he studies and assesses his foe. Like she, he sees prey before him. Coolly, he places his hands upon the desk's edge. He breathes deeply, and his chest expands fully. His muscles tense, and his shoulders are square and large. The Living Weapon prepares to strike. Affronted, the panther steps toward the lion in his den.

The man stops her with words, "Misty Knight called this evening. She said that Nightwing Investigations has a case. So, just what is the case, Colleen? Perhaps, you could tell me just what is the case—Colleen." Iron Fist's fingers tighten upon the desk, and his feet lift from the floor. Beneath the wide weighty mahogany, powerful legs bend up and aim themselves at the furnishing's interior. Outside the desk, Wing pads one step toward her prey. She says nothing. She only paws the sharp, deadly, sheathed katana upon her hip.

"Does the cat have your tongue?" Rand asks the panther. Iron Fist puffs his chest and arches his shoulders.

"Who the hell are you?" Skullcrusher exclaims unexpectedly in the reception area. In reception, someone, not Skullcrusher, bellows back. Something hits someone hard. Furniture breaks. Startled, Pavane turns her head toward her ally down the hall.

Suddenly, the master makes his move. He kicks the massive mahogany slab into Pavane, and the quarter-ton table sails across the room. It plasters Pavane into the wall. An iron chi seethes through every fiber of Iron Fist's being, and he can summon it from his fists to his feet. He removes his tweed jacket to reveal his K'un L'un colors. He raises his iron dukes and advances toward his foe. Down the hall, Iron Fist sees a huge individual smack Skullcrusher with a cudgel. The grunting savage clubs Skullcrusher again and again unmercifully, making steel chains and ironballs rattle. Iron Fist only glances at the brute though. Pavane seems to still be conscious in the wall.

Like a banshee, a vengeful resurrected shapeshifter, Pavane screams in fury. Like a banshee, her scream paralyzes the knight fixed to vanquish her. A primal ululation stops Rand cold. Shrieking, the panther pounds and pushes the desk pinning her. Teeth bared, she growls and thrashes. The rabid, raging, wild woman punches, claws, elbows the plaster trapping her until her hands and arms bleed. Calmly, the brave knight approaches the banshee. He will chop her neck and silence her. Eerily, Pavane suddenly pauses; she abruptly stops still. Crazy-eyed, Wing's borrowed face re-arranges into Pavane's original. Beneath her pilfered robe, Pavane becomes her comely blonde identity. Staring down Fist, the witchy woman cackles and slaps her hand beneath her belt. Like Scylla, Pavane produces a burning, titanic snake from her loins. Blacklash's electrified, steel whip clefts the solid table right atwain. The lamia cracks the crackling weapon, and the metal line fissures through hard floor.

K'un L'un's icon coils like a dragon. He springs. The champion flying headbutts his opponent before she knows what hits her. Upon her wrist, two fists clamp like iron. In pain, Pavane nearly drops Blacklash's whip. Iron Fist flips her across the room and into the opposite wall's plaster. She imprints and falls. She drops the whip. Sore, she rises wobbly to her feet. Before she knows what hits, Iron Fist's foot kicks her head through the window behind her. Broken glass falls over Pavane's face and eyes. Jagged glass surrounds her head when she carefully opens her lids. She opens wide in bemusement. Then, Iron Fist yanks her inside. He left hooks her. She drops.

"Stay down!" the Kung Fu Killer orders the foe at his feet.

"There'zzzz a clown weariiing white-face on the ledge. Heee'zz gotta machete," Pavane groans punch-dunk, "I juzz saw 'im."

Before Iron Fist even replies, gunfire barrages the office and endangers the two brawlers. Iron Fist hits the deck. Across from him, Pavane lies prone also beneath the spraying bullets and debris.

A moment earlier, Skullcrusher stands at alert in the dark reception area. Down the hall, he hears Rand address his mistress, but Pavane does not say a word. The henchman cups his right ear to hear. To his surprise, his left ear hears someone suddenly beside him. Someone growls. Skullcrusher draws his chain weapons. He turns. "Who the hell are you?" he brashly queries.

Skullcrusher's eyeball barely perceives the incoming club before it fractures his eyesocket. Massive Micah Synn smashes African blackwood right across the thug's stupid face. Synn has snuck-up and surprised his prey (for why Synn is here, please see Chap. 8 of this story). Mug cracked, Skullcrusher lifts his chains and spins his bludgeons. A steel sphere will splinter that wooden club. Then, a steel sphere will shatter an ape's face. Dual chain maces whizz, buzz, and criss-cross to dazzle Synn and shield Sima. The berserker steps back from the bastion blur of ball and chain. He dare not step toward the looping lines of death. Skullcrusher snarls smugly. Straight-faced, the barbarian picks up a stuffed chair and an endtable, one in each hand. Synn hurls them at Skullcrusher. Furniture breaks. Wood and wadding slow the fatal flails. Snarling smugly, Micah Synn charges.

Before Chao Sima knows what, Synn crashes the henchman loudly through the reception desk's countertop. Synn crushes Skullcrusher. Skullcrusher wraps his fists in iron links and throws two punches into the 6'6" ape-man's hard body. Sans hesitation or mercy, the jungle beast seizes his prey by the throat and tosses it across the carpet. He stalks after his target.

Thunderously, a desk imprints some poor bitch into the plaster in the other room. The impressive crash halts predator Synn in his tracks. Curious, he looks at the office. Skullcrusher looks at his attacker. Micah Synn is a shirtless savage red with anger. His wild black hair wreaths his blood-crazed eyes in his sanguine face. He wears leather breeches and jungle boots. An eight-inch dagger hangs on his hip.

Skullcrusher staggers to his feet. He will cave Micah's fucken head in. His chains rise resolutely, but his balls clang impotently upon the floor. For an instant, battered Skullcrusher spots Iron Fist in the office. The assassin and his mark look each other in the face. Skullcrusher looks down. On his chest, the Immortal Iron Fist bears a dragon, proud paragon of the East. For a moment, Chao Sima considers beseeching.

But then, Micah Synn arrives again. His cudgel arrives again. On its foreswing, the club knocks Skullcrusher's proud head to the side on his strong neck. On its backswing, the wood takes teeth from his mouth. Savage Synn grunts and grunts as he swings and swings again and again and again. Skullcrusher's cap and blood fall upon the carpet. His nose breaks flat upon his face. His broken eyesocket gives entirely, and his eyeball hangs beside his nose. Skullcrusher's good eye rolls half-way into his head, and his body goes limp. He seeks the ground. Oblivion matters more than revenge upon Rand or fighting against Synn or staying conscious. However, the beast is unmerciful. Synn seizes Skullcrusher by his sticky, gory scalp and lifts him erect. A low moan escapes blood-stained lips. Then, Synn's cudgel strikes ribs again and again and again. And, limp chains rattle and firm bones break again and again and again. Blood escapes lips. Chao Sima struggles to breathe his last.

Micah Synn takes a deep breath. He growls into Sima's face, "You invaded my sanctum. Righteously, I give your blood, bone, and brains to my god Mow."

A .44 cocks, "Do you want to hear something funny? Skullcrusher wasn't even there that night. But, I was. Do you think that you can do me the same way that you just did him?"

In the doorway to reception, Misty Knight stands behind a long, powerful gun aimed at Micah Synn. She could drop the animal easily.

Cocksure, the chieftain chuckles, "Yes, I will kill you too, Misty Knight. I know who you are, Misty Knight. I know all who dared invade my sanctum. And, all will die just like this sack of meat and shit." The predator shakes his limp kill. For some reason, Synn slides his gory cudgel into his belt. He puts it away.

Knight shrugs unimpressed, "You have quite a morbid imagination, Micah Synn. I think that I'll just shoot you and take you in."

Synn has one hand on Skullcrusher's scalp. He slams his other into the henchman's crotch. Simultaneously, Knight's finger tightens on the .44's trigger. She fires. Simultaneously, Synn hurls Chao Sima's carcass. The .44 round blasts through flying dead meat, and human flesh sprays furniture and walls.

Disgusted, Knight spits on the carpet. She aims again into the darkness, but she does not see Synn. From the darkness, two chairs fly. Synn lobs them. Blam. Blam. Knight splinters wood and fabric. The bullets travel into Iron Fist's office. The chairs make Knight waste ammo. The chairs distract Knight until Synn can arrive. From the darkness, he charges like a buck, and he tackles her like an ape. The two tumble into the hallway.

Momentarily, Misty is on her back with huge Micah atop her. He brandishes his big dagger and slams it home into her gunhand. This heated action accomplishes exactly nothing. The blade barely penetrates beyond the tip. Impotently, the weapon drops to the floor.

"Bionic," Misty informs, "Let me show you." A punch knocks a proud head to the side and knocks teeth from a mouth. A backhand slaps natural man off of bionic woman entirely. Synn's skull rings.

The elevator dings. Someone has arrived. Both combatants wonder who it possibly could be. The wildman does not wait to find out. He swoops-up his hunting knife and throws it.

The well-thrown weapon would have killed its target—had Martina Tereshkova not been wearing body armor. For a second time, advanced technology foils the barbarian's tool. Impressively, the blade still manages to stick in the armor just over her heart. Rand's security head gasps; then, she growls "Why I oughta." Automatic fire bursts from her assault rifle. Hot lead lights-up the hallway. The tracers whizz just above Knight who has to hit the deck. She aims her sidearm at Tereshkova "Why I oughta," she growls.

Instantly, Tereshkova stops firing. She addresses Knight, "Mr. Rand's friend Misty Knight, please do not shoot me."

Knight answers, "Danny's idiot employee Martina Tereshkova, please do not shoot ME. Always, be sure of your target, asshole."

"Okay, I will be," the Tereshkova raises the gun's scope, "The big brute ran toward Mr. Rand's office. I see him in a conference room adjacent to the main office, which is trashed. Mr. Rand and some woman lie flat on the floor near the office's window. Also, I see a nearly-dead guy on the floor in the reception area."

"That scope sees through walls," Knight guesses correctly.

"Yes, it does. It has infrared. I will shoot now the bad guy here to kill Mr. Rand and other people. Duck, Mr. Rand!" another barrage of bullets breaks through the walls. Iron Fist stays low and grits his teeth. Some idiots are un-freaking-believable.

Behind her scope, Tereshkova raises an eyebrow, "Perhaps, I should not have told Mr. Rand to duck. The big brute ducked too. All of those bullets missed."

"You're an idiot, fool. You shouldn't have telegraphed your move," Knight scoffs, "Trust me. That big brute is one crafty caveman."

"Well, now he is an extinct caveman. He just stood up," the riflewoman retorts, "Let's see what he's got." Yawping, the director blindly fires another salvo of deadly bullets.

Iron Fist and Pavane go out the window into mid-air where it's safer. From the conference room, a narrow projectile shoots past Tereshkova's head and ricochets off the wall behind her. Synn's cudgel knocks out the watchwoman cold.

"Well, he just showed that fool what he's got," Knight thinks to herself, "Synn threw that club like his arch-enemy Daredevil throws his. I'm impressed—much as I wish otherwise."

Knight speedloads and sneaks toward the conference room. Where the hell is Shanna when you need her? This jungle guy is her thing.

Outside the building, Iron Fist and Pavane fall through mid-air. A machete-wielding maniac threatens them from the ledge. And, a half-naked, fur-garbed acrobat seems to approach in the distance.


	16. Chapter 16: Kicking Asses, Part One

**Chapter 16: Kicking Asses, Part One**

Emulating her beau Iron Fist, Misty Knight sends her own fist through the conference room wall. The bionic blow blasts a huge hole. As Knight anticipated, Micah Synn thought that she would use the room's door. Very briefly, Synn is surprised. Knight presses her temporary advantage against this formidable foe. With her left hand, her non-shooting hand, she discharges her gun into the ceiling. The flash is harsh in the dark room, and the noise is loud. Synn is distracted for a centisecond. Then, Knight's right hand, her bionic one, slugs the brute in the breadbasket. He drops. He seems quite stunned. That ought to do it.

"Aw crap, this won't do!" Iron Fist thinks to himself as something painfully arrests him in mid-air. From the window, Iron Fist and Pavane have jumped, for they have fled the barrage of bullets in the office. However, suddenly, a lasso loops Fist's ankle. It halts him abruptly. It cuts flesh and pulls muscle. The rope swings Iron Fist and his burden Pavane into the building's solid brick. Iron Fist drops Pavane, and she hits the roof below hard. The hemp shakes violently. Iron Fist looks up its length at his ambusher. As expected, the trapper is the same machete-wielding maniac from the ledge earlier: The maniac is bald, white-faced, cock-eyed, middle-aged, and short. He has the lariat in one hand and his machete in the other. The steel waves in threat. Iron Fist does a quick sit-up and yanks the tether hard. The middle-aged thug loses his balance and tumbles from the ledge. Both men plummet sixteen feet onto the roof below. They hit hard. The machete bounces out of the stunned savage's hand.

On his back, Iron Fist wonders how many people are trying to kill him tonight. Possibly, this daft guy is another of Pavane's incompetent sidekicks. The white facepaint is clownish, afterall. Iron Fist does not recognize Synn's right-hand man Vikah. Thus, the hero asks, "Who the hell are you?" But, Vikah only sneers in reply. Iron Fist does not realize that Vikah is mute. He gives Iron Fist the evil eye and rises to his knees.

Then, two barefeet land on the neanderthal's noggin. They smash his white face into the tarry roof. "Shanna, thanks for coming," Iron Fist greets his cavalry. Smiling Shanna squats over her prey like a big cat in her pardine skin.

Above, two other fierce creatures snarl at each other. Micah Synn has recovered quickly. The gorilla has Knight in a bearhug. Apish arms nearly crack her spine and ribs. Misty can barely breathe. She can barely bear the pain.

However, the oaf has neglected to pin her arms. They are free. One free hand holds a .44 handgun. Knight fires it right by Synn's ear. His grip loosens. The other arm—a bionic one—jerks Synn's arm to the side. Knight is free. She sucks air into her sore torso, and she thinks fast about what to do fast. This Micah menace just does not stay down.

Below the conference room, Pavane seems out cold upon the roof. She lies tits-up in the dirty rooftop's dreck and soot. Blacklash's serpentine whip trails from her hand. Colleen Wing's keen katana rests on her hip. Iron Fist decides that he had better disarm her and tie her up. Wing's robe has a belt that might do for some bondage. The hero feels odd about the robe being open, but he feels also weird about Pavane wearing Wing's robe at all.

Shanna steps off of Vikah's head. He is not quite out cold. In fact, his face is flushed with anger. Hot blood dribbles down his flaked white warpaint. The witch doctor sees his blade inches from him. Just as Vikah reaches, the jungle queen's foot steps upon the machete's hilt and pins it to the ground. The mad mute growls.

The frisky cat purrs, "Do you want your toy, little boy? Then, go get it!" The playful pantheress bats the machete away from Vikah. It skids across the roof. Shanna steps back and grins. Vikah scampers after his precious blade. Seizing his sword, the warrior priest stands up, scowls, and shakes his big blade at the roiling wench. Shanna prances toward him. Before Vikah even knows, the She-Devil springs toward him, scissorlocks his head, and flips him flat upon the dirt. Again, the machete bounces from Vikah's stunned hand. The cat plays with her prey.

Above, Knight snatches upward into Synn's armpit. He winces. She is 5'9". He is 6'6". Normally, she would never try flipping him. But, her bionic arm is a distinct mechanical advantage. Using some judo, the strongarm of the law hurls the sinner right through the wall into Danny's office. Impressively, the feral fighter rises immediately. He growls. The woman warrior strides through the second hole that she has knocked in the conference room's walls. Like a barroom brawler, Synn shakes the cobwebs from his head. But, like a barroom brawler, Knight smashes him with a chair from the conference room. King Micah feels blood on his face, and he tastes blood in his mouth. Resolved, the battle-wise barbarian realizes his next necessary move.

On the roof below, Synn's man Vikah is wearily face-down. Shanna pads over to his lariat. She picks it up. Nearby, Iron Fist kneels over Pavane. He checks her pulse and pupils. Both witch-doctor and his witch seem incapacitated. Humming, Shanna skips back to Vikah. The animal handler hogties his limbs behind his back in record time. The jungle girl is smugly satisfied. Then, a huge crash sounds behind her back. Startled, Shanna whirls. She sees Iron Fist and Pavane fall through a sudden schism in the roof.

While Shanna played, Iron Fist studied Pavane's limp form. She had taken quite a beating tonight. But, her pulse and pupils seemed okay. Iron Fist disarmed Pavane of Blacklash's lethal lash (despite apparent unconsciousness, her angry hand gripped the weapon tightly). Then, he prepared to disrobe her. He reached for her belt, with which he would tie her up. Her eyes shot open, and her hand shot to the close-by whip. Quickly, Iron Fist stood up and stepped back. The hissing hellion cocked the hot, hissing whip. With a masterful flick of the wrist, she cracked the vulcan lash across the ground. Firmament fissured and shattered. Debris blasted upward. And, bodies tumbled downward.

For a second time, the two arch-enemies plummet. They hit the concrete hard twenty-feet below in the warehouse's night darkness. Sore Iron Fist taunts Pavane, "Pavane, honey, I'm Iron Fist, not Iron Man. You can't use Blacklash's whip like that. Someone might get hurt."

"You are no man at all, Daniel Rand," Pavane rages, "With this whip, I shall burn off your face as you did mine. I shall flay off your skin as you did mine. I shall remove your manhood as you removed my beauty. I shall have my revenge! Your testicles are mine!"

"Nuts! This woman is harsh!" Danny Rand thinks.

Meanwhile, above, he-man Micah Synn realizes a harsh reality. Dragon-lady Misty Knight is kicking his ass. Usually, the Kinjorge king had keeps his women brutally in-line. Just ask Micah Synn's wives, Matt Murdock's secretary, Foggy Nelson's wife, or Kingpin's female agent. However, he is not going to take Misty Knight anytime soon. He is punchdrunk, and she is the one punching. Slapping him, she orders, "Get on the ground, and put your hands behind your back!" Then, her boot literally kicks his ass and puts him on the carpet. Synn cannot stand this beat-down. Daredevil once beat the confidence out of Synn bit by bit just as Knight does now. That is how The Man without Fear ultimately took down the Chief.

Impetuous, Synn suddenly stands straight up. Looking downward, the king spits right into the Knight's eyes. "Muthafucka!" yells the blinded woman. The focused man sprints for the broken window. The wildman leaps like a scared simian. Nimbly, he lands upon the roof. There, he sees another woman, but she is not as threatening. With her back to him, the firehair examines a smoking fissure. The woman looks like one of his wives. She is pale, pelt-clad, and primal. Micah intends to smack her around and to get back to his hunting Iron Fist and Pavane. Surely, she is not as tough as modern woman Knight.

Wait? Is that Vikah beaten and bound over there? Did the firehair do that? Synn hesitates—before stalking forward.

From the window above, Misty Knight assesses the scene. Iron Fist and Pavane might have disappeared down a giant, smoking hole in the roof. On the roof, Synn closes-in on Shanna. To his surprise, an elbow meets him once he reaches her. The huntress knew that the animal was there. The two alphas circle each other and stare each other down. Knight considers dropping Synn with her handgun. But, the two savages could lock limbs and horns at any time. Therefore, Knight could hit Shanna.

Away from the savages, scintillation appears in the dark warehouse. In the pit whips around a glowing, blazing lash. "That crazy bitch is down there" realizes Knight. It's time to end this. Pavane's three men are incarcerated, decapitated, and fustigated. Pavane needs to be frustrated and incapacitated. To this purpose, Knight strides toward the elevator skipping over totaled Tereshkova as she goes. Thank God that reckless Russian is still out-cold.

In the evening cool, Shanna and Synn circle each other. Shanna sees a frustrated and fatigued beast before her. Sweat streams and gleams upon heaving chest. Matted long hair hangs in sanguine face with gritted teeth. In contrast, Shanna is rather fresh. So, she makes fresh comments.

"I know you. You're Micah Synn, a supposed king of the jungle. My pal Daredevil told me all about the jungle boy whom he tamed," Shanna winks into the feral's furrowed face, "I'm Shanna, the She-Devil and Queen of the Savage Land, where I wrestle and wrangle beasts like you all of the time, especially when they're in sorry shape such as you. . . . ."

A jarring jab silences Shanna. Her strong, shapely gams buckle a bit. And, the next jab knocks the queen right on her cheeky ass. Synn flicks sweat in her face. Swiftly, he seizes both of her calves.

Beneath Synn's boots,'s, Iron Fist stirs sore but uninjured in the warehouse. Fist sees Pavane on the floor yards away. She looks more hurt than he. Good. The witch has shown a stamina as resilient as her hatred. It's time to end this. The hero stands-up. The villain gets to her knees. In threat, she swishes her deadly whip. She stares down Danny. Then, the Living Weapon leaps. His flying sidekick knocks her several feet backward. Iron Fist approaches the crumbled figure. Is Pavane finally out? No.

"Danny. Danny" groans a deep male voice. The voice chills Danny Rand's blood, and it freezes him in place. He beholds the changeling and gasps. The late Luke Cage lies upon the floor and looks sadly into his ex-partner's eyes. Pavane's ploy is a perverse sight. It disgusts Fist.

"I should rip away your façade with your own whip," Iron Fist pronounces.

"Would you prefer that I look like the other love of your life when I kill you?" Luke Cage morphs into Misty Knight in Colleen Wing's robe.

Iron Fist scoffs, "You can grow breasts. Big deal. Luke probably could do that, what with all of the steroids." The champion steps toward his foe. She has a plan for keeping him back.

On the roof, Synn plans to dispatch Shanna quickly. With a yank, he hoists the She-Devil by her calves. With a snap, he slams her flat upon her back like prey. She snarls up at him. He spits in her face. In an instant, his huge hands move down to her ankles. The huge man spins her around as though she were a child; then, he releases her, and she tumbles harshly over the rough rooftop. It hurts and burns. Shanna seems outmatched, and that realization is very hard for a She-Devil to take. She stands sore. Suddenly, stones pelt her arms and face as though Synn would shoo her. Across the roof, Shanna sees Synn sneer and leer. Then, something else catches his eye peripherally. He seems angry at the sight.

Like a madwoman, Pavane spins and cracks Blacklash's whip before her like Thor's hammer. Like Thor's hammer, Blacklash's whip is both mighty shield and baneful weapon. Its fiendish fires keep Iron Fist at bay. Its effulgent flash flickers throughout the warehouse, and Iron Fist must look away to avoid blindness. Misty Knight witnesses its fulgor from four stories above. The bolt's echoic thunder nearly deafens Iron Fist, and its crackling hellfire nearly burns his skin. In the witch's hand, the whip is an unholy weapon making a monstrous display of the power within it and the fury within its mistress.

However, K'un L'un's champion has also power and fury within. He forms a fist and concentrates upon the lethal line before him. Fearlessly, he will break that line. He will not attempt to outflank his foe. Rather, his bold iron fist will strike the lightning and punch the thunder goddess right in her face.

A moment earlier, Synn's roar resounds over the rooftops. The ape-man is appalled to see Vikah bound upon the ground. The chief charges toward his downed companion. Shanna watches. Perhaps, Synn means to free Vikah. The queen cannot have that double-team occurring. Shanna charges Synn. Synn reaches Vikah. Shanna reaches Synn and dives low to tackle him. The brute merely stiff-arms her pretty face into the tar and the grit. Then, he pins his heavy boot to her neck. Beneath the boot, the She-Devil is fuming angry. She grinds her teeth.

Synn growls at helpless Vikah, "Goddam you! How often will you fail? How often will you be weak? You have failed your chief Micah Synn and your god Mow again and again. Again and again, these weak, soft Americans defeat you in combat. No more. This moment, I free you from your shame. I sacrifice you to Mow for the honor of his Kinjorge people."

Done vociferating, the savage steps from his pinned prey. He stoops over the helpless henchman. Synn presses the old man high over his head and walks to the roof's edge. Vikah trembles with some emotion—perhaps fear.

"Don't do it!" Queen Shanna commands from the dirt. The King of the Jungle acts sans hesitation or mercy. He lobs his disgraced friend high over the concrete canyon, and he sprints away without even witnessing the old priest's final seconds. The animal runs past Shanna and drops down a hole to pursue further prey. In the warehouse, Synn lands near Iron Fist and Pavane's battle. The lion stalks toward his targets. Above Synn, Shanna runs to the roof's edge. She witnesses Vikah hit the street and then traffic hit him. It is a macabre and upsetting sight.

Iron Fist hits the glowing, gyring line that could remove his fist entirely. He powerpunches the hilt in Pavane's hand. Pavane cannot possibly hold onto an object struck with such force. The burning whip backlashes and nearly removes her face. It leaves her hand and flies through the air. The spinning, white-hot cable whirls toward the racking full of freight. In an instant, it slices and burns through supports, wires, and containers. Some smoldering material rains down right away. The rest creaks mightily upon melted metal momentarily. Crushing tons are about to fall.

Like a buffalo, Synn charges Iron Fist's back. The martial artist hears his attacker's swift approach. Without even looking, Iron Fist flips and throws the lunging beast far. The shrieking savage hits the floor just before a crashing wave of metal, wood, and other debris buries him. Possibly, a foe just died. Iron Fist hopes not. But, Iron Fist will check for a crushed body later. He really is in the middle of a life-and-death fight right now.

"Where the hell is Pavane?" Iron Fist wonders to himself. She is disappeared. On one hand, the mistress now lacks her whip. That's good. On the other hand, the assassin has still a stolen sword, deadly hands, and a homicidal mindset. Somewhere in the darkness, a panther skulks and stalks.

Surprisingly, Pavane announces herself, "That goon was Micah Synn. I recognized him. He owned the loft in which you and I last fought to the death." Pavane's voice moves farther into the warehouse. Iron Fist follows her.

Iron Fist snaps his fingers, "That's who that was. I recognize the name. Micah Synn was in _The_ _Daily Bugle_ almost daily for awhile there. Daredevil and he had a series of clashes and proved worthy foes to each other. Synn is a capable little criminal. Why do you figure that he is here, Ms. Pavane? I think that he is incensed that you broke into his sanctum. I saw him furiously bludgeoning Skullcrusher earlier. Most likely, he crushed Skullcrusher's skull right in. You're probably next."

As he speaks, Iron Fist hunts his quarry. No doubt, she believes that he is the mouse and that she is the cat. But, K'un L'un's dragon knows better. He has been knocking her around all night, and he intends to do so just a little bit more. Then, the police can come put the crazed kitty in a cage. The manhunter stalks through the aisles of racking, but he does not see the panthress anywhere in the darkness. Now, he is at the warehouse's loading dock. Pavane could be many places waiting to pounce. She could be in one of the dark trailers to the left. She could be down the dark hallway to the right. She could be in the cluttered receiving office. She could be by the forklift. She could somehow be behind Iron Fist. She could be escaped. Iron Fist scans the low-lit room. Pavane watches him look for her. Then, she makes her move.

Elsewhere, a pile of racking rubble stirs. A hulking infuriated man emerges bloodied and battered. And, he drags something ominous behind him. It is Blacklash's whip. The madman knows exactly the steel scourge's best use. Hot blood dripping, Micah Synn goes hunting for . . .

Above Synn, a she-devil alights in the rafters. She carries a bow and deadly arrows upon her back. She is hot-blooded too.


End file.
